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Essays on Human Nature 



(By 
W. M. Strickler, M. D. 



COLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO : : 1906 



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Contents 

Page 

Bringing Sunshine Into Life 5 

Highest Good 15 

Relation of Ethics and Religion 22 

Healthy Mindedness 30 

Pessimism and Optimism 41 

Nervous Derangements 53 

Superstitions 64 

Dreaming 76 

Moral Insanity 87 

Kinship of Genius and Insanity 101 

Evolution ' 120 

The Value of Moral Character 127 

Formation and Effects of Character 131 

Character, and Happiness as a Result 1 39 

Causes of Happiness 150 

Some Elements of Happiness 161 

The Pursuit of Happiness 1 73 

The Effect of Happiness Upon Character . . . . 182 

The World We Live In 1 88 

The Problem of Poverty 195 

Some Characters of Animals Which Are Common to Man 207 

The Transmission of Acquired Characters . . . . 218 

Herbert Spencer 236 

The Human Brain 249 

Industrialism 261 

The Fear of Death ,'..... 271 



Bringing Sunshine Into Life 

If, instead of starting out to bring sunshine pri- 
marily into the lives of others, each one endeavored 
to bring it into his own life, as the whole of 
humanity embraces the lives of each, then all would 
be included. In approaching the subject, I will say 
I have none but common-sense methods to recom- 
mend. Those who have only metaphysical and super- 
natural ones generally prove themselves failures. 

I will start out with the assumption that sunshine 
arises from the pursuit of the highest good. But 
what is the highest good? According to Bentham 
and the Mill's, it is the promotion of general happi- 
ness, while according to Herbert Spencer, it is the 
promotion, primarily, of self-happiness; while 
according to Carlyle, it is a calumny to say that 
men are moved to heroic actions by ease or hope of 
pleasure of any kind in this world or the next. "In 
the meanest mortal there lies something better. It 
is not to taste sweets, but to do something nobler, 
that the poorest dimly longs. They wrong man 
greatly who say he is seduced by ease." 

John Fiske speaks of the desire for pleasure as 
a low motive. I have no doubt that there are higher 
ones, but notwithstanding the dictum of these men, 
the desire for pleasure is universal, showing that it 
is original in the human constitution, and that it 
cuts a prodigous figure in the actions of men as is 
evident to all. It is not only a mental act which 
influences us, but the nervous energy of the body, 
prompts to the pursuit of pleasure, for whatever 

2- 



6 BRINGING SUNSHINE INTO LIFE 

promotes pleasure promotes the well being of the 
body — health, life and longevity. 

It is a property of organized matter to seek that 
which is beneficial and avoid that which is injurious, 
even whether consciousness or volition be present or 
not. And then again, there is Professor Paulsen, 
of the University of Berlin, who, without reference 
to pleasure or pain, claims the highest good consists 
in the "exercise and development of life," meaning 
our whole life, bodily, mental and moral. 

This paper will be devoted to the advocacy of 
this last view. According to this view, everything 
we do, think or feel helps to carry out life, and con- 
tributes that much toward fulfilling our destiny. 

First as to the exercise of the body. After due 
rest of the body, inaction becomes unpleasant, we 
become restless, and we want to be out and about. 
Stirring around gives us pleasure. It may not be 
intense, and we may not duly appreciate it, and 
neglect to reflect upon it. A little observation, how- 
ever, shows its importance. Let one observe the 
play of animals to see the joys of bodily exercise; 
or watch the restlessness of the caged lion, and see 
how he walks to and fro in his limited pen; or 
observe the conduct of prisoners, and he will form 
some idea of the value of bodily exercise. It seems 
to scatter the energies and diffuse them through the 
body, and brings about a feeling of well being or 
health. Although this feeling may not be marked, 
still it is a joy before which all other joys pale. Eor 
without health there can be but little sunshine. 

The importance of exercise to health cannot be 
overestimated. Moderate exercise in healthy air 
during various out-door occupations and pastimes 
excites into activity most of the functions of the 
body, especially the circulation of the blood and 
respiration and other functions intimately connected 
therewith. The vital powers gradually gain vigor 



BRINGING SUNSHINE INTO LIFE 7 

by activity, and the structures concerned in their 
support acquire a fuller and healthier development. 
The muscles especially, including the heart, manifest 
increase of strength and firmness ; the blood vessels 
are improved in tone so that they distribute, vigor- 
ously and equally, the flow of blood and prevent 
partial congestions and obstructions. The blood 
itself, thus energetically carried through the organs 
and textures, undergoes the complete series of 
changes from nutrition, purification and arterial- 
ization, by which its integrity is maintained, and 
by which it is adapted to sustain the several func- 
tions of the body. The appetite, the digestion, the 
spirits, and temper, are generally all improved by 
exercise. Instinctive activity, as such, is usually 
pleasurable, whether mental accompaniments are 
present or not. 

And, further, energetic action is in itself a source 
of pleasure. Experiments made by the dynamo- 
meter, sphygmograph, pneumatagraph and pletys- 
mograph show that pleasure is accompanied by 
strengthened muscular activity, quickened pulse-beat 
and respiration and increased peripheral circulation, 
and we experience a feeling of general well being. 
We are more alive, and glad that we are. Very 
rapid and lively emotions produce a sort of intoxica- 
tion and giddiness that are most delightful. Besides 
these external effects of pleasurable feelings, they 
are accompanied internally by heightened excitation 
of the brain centers, which is accompanied in turn 
by physiological pleasure on the mental side. Those 
who can command the time will find it advantageous 
to intersperse sedentary occupations with short 
periods, if need be, of exercise, taken, if possible, in 
the open air. If these be only for ten or fifteen min- 
utes at a time twice or thrice in the forenoon and 
afternoon, they will contribute considerably to 
counteract the bad effects of confinement, and, by 



8 BRINGING SUNSHINE INTO LIFE 

giving a fresh impulse to circulation and respiration, 
will remove congestion, cool the head, warm the feet, 
and thus refresh both body and mind. 

How to get rid of our surplus nervous energy 
is a great question. Although getting rid of it may 
not produce positive happiness, it relieves us of the 
misery its excess produces. The accompanying 
newspaper clipping illustrates the subject: 

"There's nothing like out-of-doors to drive the 
blue devils away, to make up for something one has 
lost, to make up for something one has never had. 
When I think my family is disagreeable, I go for a 
walk. When I know I am disagreeable, I go for a 
walk. When my friends omit to send me invita- 
tions, I go for a walk. When my clothes look time- 
worn and discouraged, I go for a walk. When 
ermine is the only fur worn, I go for a walk. When 
my late sweetheart decided it was the other girl after 
all, I stayed at home in a dark room and cried for 
awhile. But afterwards I got up, and went for a 
walk. And now it is all right." 

In order to appreciate the effect of bodily exer- 
cise on the mind, it is necessary to consider that the 
mind is not confined to one corner of the body — the 
brain, for instance. 

More advance knowledge shows that every part 
of the body is more or less associated with the mind. 
Wherever there is a filament of a nerve or other 
sensative structure, therein may arise influences 
which may affect the mind. I remember reading of 
a boy who had repeated convulsions and whose mind 
was affected, and in whom nothing wrong could be 
found other than a small blister on one of the toes, 
convulsions and mental affection being relieved by 
opening it. I remember, in my own practice, a boy 
of 10, who was rendered unconscious and delirious 
by having eaten excessively of peanuts. Showing 



BRINGING SUNSHINE INTO LIFE 9 

that an irritability exists in various parts of the 
body which may lead to mental disturbances. 

Since this is true, it is not strange that exercise, 
which modifies the circulation in all parts of the 
body, should greatly affect the mind — animate it 
and rejuvenating it, and bring sunshine into life. 

With regard to the development of the body, 
further than to make it healthy and protect it against 
changes of temperature, I shall have nothing further 
to say other than that, while a full development is 
desirable as a means of health, excessive develop- 
ment, such as prize-fighters undergo, unless kept up 
for a long time and then gradually allowed to 
decline, is liable to undergo a deterioration which is 
accompanied by unwholesome and depressing effects 
upon both body and mind. 

The exercise of our intellectual powers, the 
manifold means of exciting our minds to activity in 
the various divisions of labor and business, goes a 
long way toward producing healthful mental 
activity. There is something pleasant about the 
passage of ideas through the mind, be they profitable 
or otherwise. It is more agreeable than mental 
inactivity. This is shown by the languor and 
depression of ennui, or lack of mental occupation. 
The brain, the organ of the mind, was made for 
exercise. He that falls short in this respect misses 
in so far his highest good, misses in so far the sun- 
shine of life. Nature has provided so amply for 
activity in this part of our being by the large expan- 
sion of the nervous system called the brain, and the 
fact that it is amply supplied with blood, one-eighth 
of the whole amount in the body going to it, which 
means that there is about three pints of blood all 
the time in the brain, these things meaning that it 
was designed for great activity. It needs activity 
as much as any other part of the body, and we suffer 
if it is not actively employed. 



10 BRINGING SUNSHINE INTO LIFE 

Take a man who has been accustomed to mental 
occupation, and mental idleness means an aching 
void that nothing but mental exercise can fill. It is 
true bodily exercise takes the place of mental action 
to some extent, for the brain contains many of the 
centers of muscular action; but the mind is the 
agent that promotes active circulation in it and gives 
it real work. 

If we would be happy, if we would have sun- 
shine in life, we must think, we must have passing 
through our brains ideas, or sensations, or impulses 
to activity, if for nothing else than to give this part 
of our anatomy exercise . 

And then again, pleasing mental impressions, 
such as are afforded by beautiful scenery, congenial 
associates and interesting pursuits, heighten the 
benefits of bodily exercise, whereas mental idleness 
weakens the intellect and prevents the proper func- 
tions of the body. 

When the circulation in the brain is active we 
are competent for great things; we forget the 
clouds, we forget, in fact, that we are born to die. 
But when the blood flows languidly through the 
brain, a mere shadow darkens into gloom and 
threatens to overwhelm us. 

If our employment fails to furnish us with food 
for thought and reflection, and if we have no subject 
in mind to ponder over, we should read (and in 
these days of public, circulating libraries, there is no 
excuse for us if we do not). 

A man who has acquired a taste for reading has 
an invaluable possession, one that will protect him 
against many a weary hour. Many a man fills a 
suicide's grave who might have been saved there- 
from by such a taste. 

The thought that our mental activity may lead 
to usefulness of others by enlightening, benefiting 
and entertaining them, should let sunshine into life. 



BRINGING SUNSHINE INTO LIFE 11 

And then the thought that we are fulfilling our 
destiny in doing what we are adapted to do, living- 
out our lives to the greatest completion, is still more 
comforting. 

The development of our minds, the constant 
application of them, strengthens and unfolds, and if 
the matter dwelt on has not this effect, it may yet 
help to polish them by improving our style of think- 
ing, writing and conversation. As we do not know 
the extent of our capacity, and as it takes a great 
deal of training to find out, the hope that it may be 
great sustains and encourages us to put forth and 
keep up culture, and at all events make the most of 
ourselves. 

As in the case of physical development, we need 
fear no evil from an excessive development of our 
intellectual faculties. One part of our mind may be 
developed to the neglect of others, and this needs to 
be guarded against, but the excessive development 
of the whole mind needs scarcely to be feared. 

The exercise and development of the moral 
powers — these are the last to present themselves 
in life, — the capacity to distinguish good from 
evil — this brings the age of accountability. We 
have not only the power to make the distinction, but 
the one is attended with approval, the other with 
disapproval, and the feelings of disapproval are such 
that if we would be happy and bring sunshine in our 
lives, it stands us in hand to steer clear of the 
qualms of a guilty conscience. The exercise and 
development of our moral powers being an aim in 
life, then we have here an employment for life, 
to- wit: the building up of a moral character — our 
own moral improvement. 

It is fortunate there is one course open to us in 
which the word failure is not written. And here is 
where sunshine comes into life again, because fail- 
ure is a too common word in the vocabulary of life. 



12 BRINGING SUNSHINE INTO LIFE 

As we grow old, our bodily powers decline and all 
of our mental powers fail. It is sad, but the mem- 
ory fails so that we gradually lose the information 
we have accumulated through long years, and there 
seems little motive to try continually to lay up facts 
to gradually leak away, or culture our powers of 
intellect to finally fail. But the moral powers do not 
fail. The effect of the long practice of right living, 
of the practice of honesty, veracity and other virtues 
upon them is to induce a habit which promises to be 
lasting. It is true, disease may undermine our 
moral powers, but it at the same time relieves us of 
all responsibility. 

The subjugation of gross appetites, the subordi- 
nation of all trubulent or violent moral and mental 
emotions, the cultivation of the gentle and contem- 
plative feelings best fostered in domestic life; in 
the cultivation of these virtues, a strong habit is 
formed which enters so deeply into our being that 
it will carry us through to the end or else prove the 
best safeguard we could possibly have. 

"A good moral character," to quote the language 
of Professor Maudsley, "implies the development of 
one's self — the development of one's faculties and 
one's self-control. What an object to set before 
one's self! If we all aimed for that object, there 
would be much less disappointment and sorrow in 
the world. If we all aimed at self-development, we 
would all succeed in a measure; there would be 
fewer failures. 

"How few, however, ever think of making self- 
development an object in life. As a matter of fact, 
it admits of no doubt that self-development is not 
made a life aim; that such formation of character 
as takes place does, in the great majority of men, 
take place, as it were, by chance, without premedita- 
tion, as an incidental effect of the discipline and 



BRINGING SUNSHINE INTO LIFE 13 

training which they undergo in the pursuit of other 
life aims. 

"The formation of a character, in which the 
thoughts, feelings and actions are under the habitual 
guidance of a well-fashioned will, is perhaps the 
hardest task in the world, being, when accomplished, 
the highest effort of self-development. It represents 
the attainment by conscious method of a harmony 
of the individual nature in itself, and of the com- 
pletest harmony between man and nature, a condi- 
tion in which the individual has succeeded in making 
the best of himself, of the human nature, with which 
he has to do, and of the world in which he moves 
and has his being. 

"And yet, instead of this, riches, position, power, 
applause of men, are placed by us as an object of 
life — such things as inevitably breed and foster 
many bad impressions in the eager competition to 
attain them. 

"Hence, in fact, come disappointed ambition, 
jealousy, grief from loss of fortune, all the torments 
of wounded self-love, and a thousand other mental 
sufferings. There need be no disappointed ambition 
if a man were to set before himself a true aim in life, 
and work definitely for it; no envy or jealousy if 
he considered that it mattered not whether he did a 
great thing or someone else did it, nature's only 
concern being that it should be done; no wounded 
self-love if he had learned well the eternal lesson 
of life — self-renunciation." 

All this may be without the aid of religion, so 
that there is a morality independent of religion. As 
is shown by the fact that Bode and Himaes, who are 
honest and truthful, but have no word for God, for 
soul, Heaven or Hell in their language. Yet he 
feels himself constrained to try to be moral. At the 
same time, a belief in a supreme existence seems 
almost a necessity ; a necessity to anchor our minds, 



14 BRINGING SUNSHINE INTO LIFE 

and he that looks upon the present arrangements of 
rewards and punishments as an evidence of a Ruler 
of the Universe, who is good, and in favor of 
righteousness, has the best of the argument. In 
other words, religion is necessary to complete our 
sunshine in life, and the development of our moral 
powers. That they are entirely evolved, we do not 
say, but do say that there is great difference between 
the undeveloped conscience of the savage cannibal 
and the highly cultivated conscience of the civilized 
man ; and that among most of us there is still room 
for improvement in discriminating the evil from the 
good. At the same time there is such a thing as 
danger of giving too much attention to the moral 
aspect of things, as there may be developed a moral 
sensitiveness that will keep us unhappy. As Steven- 
son puts it: "To be honest, to be kind, to make, 
upon the whole, a family happier for one's presence ; 
to keep a few friends, above all to keep friends with 
one's self — here is a chance for all to bring sunshine 
into life, and at the same time, a task worthy the 
efforts and fortitude of all." 



Highest Good 



In what does welfare or the highest good con- 
sist? The highest good of the individual consists 
in the perfect development and exercise of life. 
Before giving a more detailed account of this con- 
ception, however, I deem it wise to discuss another 
view of the nature of the highest good. An influ- 
ential ethical school contends that welfare, or the 
highest good, consists in the feeling of pleasure 
which life procures; that pleasure is the thing of 
absolute worth, and that everything else has value 
only in so far as it conduces to pleasure. Accord- 
ing to this school, the subjective feeling of pleasure 
is the absolute good. 

According to another school, it is the develop- 
ment of individual and social human life, regard- 
less of whether it yields pleasure or not. 

Is the teaching of the former school true or false, 
and not is it good or bad ? Theories are bad only 
in so far as they are false. 

Let me add, that pure and moral men have never 
been wanting among the representatives of this 
school, such as Bentham Mill, etc. 

It would be absurd to say that human nature 
does not esteem pleasure of absolute worth. And, 
as a matter of fact, all living beings invariably and 
universally strive after pleasure, and that pleasure 
(or freedom from pain) is the only thing which is 
desired absolutely, so claim the advocates of this 
school. This we call in question. 

What is the evidence of self-consciousness on 

15 



16 HIGHEST GOOD 

this point? Does it reveal pleasure as an end and 
everything else as means? 

Let us first make clear to ourselves what we 
mean by ends and means : I am cold and desire to 
get warm. I can accomplish my end in different 
ways; I can take exercise, I can put on warmer 
clothes, or I can light a fire. For the latter I can 
use wood, turf or coal. Here we have a pure 
relation of means to end. The end is warmth, and 
I desire it for its own sake. The means I desire 
only for the sake of the end; in themselves they 
are totally indifferent. 

Now, does the same relation obtain between 
human activities and pleasure? We sit down at a 
table hungry. Is pleasure our end, and eating 
related to it as an absolutely indifferent means? 
jSTo; we eat because we are hungry. Hunger impels 
us to eat. The state of the body, indicating that 
food is needed, impels us. It is true, pleasure 
ensues, but this pleasure did not pre-exist in con- 
sciousness as an end. We eat to fulfill our natures, 
that is because it is natural for us to eat. 

We come into this world with bodies possessed 
of a certain amount of energy. It is natural for 
the child to want to work off that energy by exer- 
cising" its limbs, and it does exercise them, long 
before it has an idea of the pleasure it will afford. 
By its nature it is impelled thereto. 

The same is seen in lower animals, as in the 
skipping of lambs, the frisking of dogs and the 
prancing of colts ; it's their nature. They are im- 
pelled to these things without reason upon their 
part. 

It is true, they afford pleasure, but this is a 
result, and not the impelling cause. The impulse 
and craving for activity preceed all consciousness 
of pleasure. 

Or must we boldly say that all desires actually 



HIGHEST GOOD 17 

aim not at the thing or action, but at pleasure? 
James Mill, a bold and acute thinker, claims we 
must. 

We have a desire for water to drink; that is 
strictly considered a figure of speech. "Properly 
speaking," says he, "it is not the water we desire, 
but the pleasure of drinking." As if the desire for 
water did not arise from the condition of the blood. 
The illusion that we desire to drink is merely the 
result of a very close association. Like the anecdote 
of an Englishman seated on the bank of a lake, 
fishing. A native approaches him and informs him 
that there are no fishes in these waters. Whereupon 
the Englishman stolidly replies that he is not fishing 
for fish, but for pleasure. This man had evidently 
dissolved the association, and regarded fishes, fish- 
ing, and pleasure, in the light of means and end. 

Do other people do the same ? It seems to me 
that the mirth occasioned by this reply is a suffi- 
cient answer. Indeed, so far as I know, the will or 
desire is always directed upon the thing or action 
itself, and not upon the pleasure that follows, and 
they are so directed because our natures urge them 
thereto. That the desire for pleasure does exert 
a great influence is shown by the fact that it is 
difficult to get men to consent to do a thing that 
they know will not increase their pleasure, but that 
will render them unhappy. 

At the same time, if pleasure is the main thing 
that is desirable, then pain should be eliminated 
from the earth. If this were done, would it make 
for the benefit of the earth or not? Besides, the 
benefit of pain as a warning against injury; it has 
a most salutary effect in developing character. 

But why are we not gratified at the illusion of 
perfect happiness? It is because we should find 
such a life unbearable. It would fail to exercise 
and satisfy the most powerful impulses of our 



18 HIGHEST GOOD 

natures. Who would care to live without opposi- 
tion and struggle ? To battle and to make sacrifices 
for one's chosen course constitutes a necessity of 
human life. 

Carlyle states this truth in a beautiful passage 
when he says : "It is a calumny to say that men 
are roused to heroic actions by ease, hope of pleas- 
ure, recompense — sugar-plums of any kind in this 
world or the next. In the meanest mortal there 
lies something nobler. It is not to taste sweets, but 
to do something nobler, that the poorest dimly 
longs. They wrong man greatly who say he is 
seduced by. ease," as quoted in the previous thesis. 

The biologist will not regard pleasure as the 
absolute end of life, but will consider both pleasure 
and pain as means of guiding the will. In the feel- 
ing of pleasure, the will becomes conscious of the 
furtherance of life by the exercise of function. 
Hence pleasure is not a good in itself, but a sign 
that good has been realized. 

When the impulse is satisfied, pleasure ceases 
for the time being. It is vanishing. Surely the rul- 
ing motive to life is not a passing feeling. It must 
be something more permanent, something that is 
not satisfied and ceases to operate continuously. 

What is that something? There are doubtless 
more than one principle operating to determine one's 
actions, but that principle is not always the con- 
sideration of happiness. 

If the pursuit of happiness were the goal of the 
will, there ought to be no question as to whose 
happiness is meant, that of the individual or general 
happiness. This is an important question. 

One school says without hesitation, general 
happiness. They make a strong case. In fact, the 
desire for the happiness of others is so general that 
it seems like a law of nature that we should 
desire it. And vet, on study, the fact becomes self- 



HIGHEST GOOD 19 

evident that our personal happiness should take 
precedence. Our own happiness is so intimately 
connected with life — that is to say, things which 
promote happiness are also things which promote 
life, — sunshine, fresh air, food and bodily exer- 
cise — that to neglect them or postpone them, in 
order to secure the happiness of others, is to lose 
life and thereby fail to secure the happiness of any. 

Again, by looking after our own happiness we 
render ourselves more capable to contribute to gen- 
eral happiness, whereas by neglecting ourselves we 
become incompetent to yield happiness to others, so 
that looking after general to the neglect of indi- 
vidual happiness is suicidal. This leads to the con- 
clusion that self-happiness or selfishness should be 
the goal of life. This is a conclusion we cannot 
accept, as it is not a worthy motive. 

We do not believe that it is made a leading 
motive to action, and that men stop to think whether 
or not such a course will lead to the greatest happi- 
ness, or to their own happiness, when confronted 
with the rightness or wrongness of an act. 

They are more liable to ask whether it is in 
accordance with their natures, and will redound to 
their improvement or the improvement of others. 

Improvement is in keeping with the doctrine of 
evolution. Through evolution the tendency is 
upward — to move from the simple to the complex, 
from the homogenious to the heterogenious, from 
the rude toward the perfect. Happiness is not in 
the line of development; it is a side issue. 

Those philosophers who hold to evolution as a 
most important principle, sidetrack that principle 
when they place happiness in the leading role. Im- 
provement and perfection and further development 
of our natures should be the primary object of life; 
and if happiness attends, so well and so good. This 
leads me to say that men pursue their callings now 



20 HIGHEST GOOD 

from one motive, as the pursuit of happiness; now 
from another, as self -improvement, and now from 
none at all, except the impulses of their own natures. 

Will the action improve us or others? That is 
the question. If it will, it will do more to determine 
the advisaility of performing it than the question, 
will it increase my happiness? Improvement is in 
the line of development or evolution. Happiness is 
not, and how strong advocates of the doctrine of 
evolution such as Herbert Spencer, can turn it aside 
in favor of the happiness doctrine we cannot 
imagine. 

Ethical principles are not inate or inborn; if they 
were, there would be no difference of opinion about 
them. They are bits of knowledge from experience 
expressed in a few words. One may operate gen- 
erally, such as the happiness theory; another may 
be more noble, such as the improvement theory, and 
in times of doubt ought to be given preference. 

The conduct of a man is morally good when it 
tends to further the well-being or perfection of the 
agent and his surroundings. It is, on the other 
hand, morally reprehensible when it lacks this 
characteristic. We call a man good when he fash- 
ions his own life in accordance with the ideal of 
human perfection, and the same time furthers the 
welfare of his surroundings. We call a man bad 
when he has neither the will nor strength to do any- 
thing towards his improvement or that of others, 
but instead disturbes and injures his surroundings. 

Darwin reaches a similar conclusion. He 
examines the pleasure theory and flatly contradicts 
it. Pleasure-pain, he concludes, is neither the motive 
nor the end of all action. I quote the passage in 
question : 

"In the case of the lower animals, it seems much 
more appropriate to speak of their social instincts 
as having developed for the general good than for 



HIGHEST GOOD 21 

the general happiness of the species. The term 
'general good' may be defined as the rearing of the 
greatest number of individuals in full vigor and 
health, with all their faculties perfect, under the 
conditions to which they are subject. As the social 
instincts both of man and the lower animals have 
no doubt been developed by nearly the same steps, 
it would be advisable, if found practicable, to use 
the same definition in both cases, and to take as the 
standard of morality the general good or welfare 
of the community, rather than the general happiness. 

"Is it good for me, and not will it increase my 
happiness? The word improvement carries with it 
the idea of good, or betterment ; the word happiness 
does not. In fact, it carries with it a menace to 
character, else why did the old school of stoic 
philosophers come into existence, and later the 
ascetics, and why is it that large numbers of men 
and women have called pleasures, particularly social 
ones, evil? 

"It is because in the excitement of social pleas- 
ures, work and duty may be forgotten, and the 
strength of character which is maintained by self- 
denying struggle may be lost." 



Relation of Ethics and Religion 

By ethics we mean the science of character. 
Religion has so many definitions we do not know 
which one to adopt, but all design to express our 
relations and duties to God. 

"If, then, I ask myself," says Professor Palmer, 
of Harvard, "whether, as a fact, a man, when par- 
ticularly religious, becomes by that circumstance 
peculiarly moral, I must say there is a great deal 
which points the other way. Our first question, 
then, shall be whether, when a man is peculiarly 
faithful in the performance of his special work, God 
is naturally in all his thoughts. It seems to me that, 
strangely enough, this is not the case. Why it is 
not, we must consider hereafter. But, taking actual 
occurrences and asking ourselves without prejudice 
this single question, I believe we are shut up to a 
negative answer. 

"Here is a surgeon engaged in his perilous art. 
The slightest divergence of the knife to right or left 
will have serious consequences. While performing 
this special task, steering that knife exactly true, 
does he fill his mind with thoughts of God and seek 
to lose his own small life in that of the infinite one? 
I do not think so. It would be disastrous if he did. 
I suspect his thoughts can hardly travel so far from 
his knife as to consider even the poor sufferer before 
him. I doubt if he greatly pities the patient before 
him on whom he is engaged, or takes much satis- 
faction in restoring him to health. 

"Before he began his work, he may have had 



RELATION OP ETHICS AND RELIGION 23 

compassionate thoughts, and may have regarded 
himself as the servant of God in conflict with hated 
disease and distress. And possibly afterwards, look- 
ing back upon his work, he may give it approval and 
feel that God's finger directed every curve of the 
knife. Both of the two, the sense of special duty 
and the sense of dependence on God, may well exist 
in the same person. But do they present exactly the 
same point of view? Does he who is thinking of 
the one necessarily think of the other? 

"I hold that, as he cuts, he may wisely exclude 
all thought of both God and his neighbor, being 
simply a surgeon and nothing more. He requires a 
certain narrowing of his vision, a certain exclusion 
of the infinite aspects of his task, in order to perform 
that task well. 

"Somewhat similar conditions will be found in 
almost every exigency of life. The painter eliciting 
beauty, the musician eliciting music, must be impas- 
sioned for beauty and music and for nothing else. 
If the artist should care less about producing beauty 
and more about companionship with God, he might 
have a more exalted aim than the seeker after colors. 
But that aim will not make him a good artist. When 
he is painting, colors and lines must claim him. He, 
too, has need of narrowness and must let infinite 
things alone. Or take the humbler life. 

"When the carpenter drives his nail, is he not 
thinking simply of the straight course of that nail 
and nothing else? He cannot at such moments 
meditate on divine commands. I grant he will be a 
poor carpenter if sometime in his life he has not 
asked himself, what is his place in God's kingdom; 
and has not seen that to drive nails straight to do 
thorough carpentery is the best service he can offer. 
These are wise thoughts for seasons of leisure. But 
they interfere with work when driving nails. I 
should advise him to withdraw his attention from 



24 RELATION OF ETHICS AND RELIGION 

the Most High. The case is the same in all life's 
operations. The particular thing before us demands 
a narrowed attention." 

"I think, too, we must have been struck with the 
fact that many persons whose characters are excel- 
lent and for whom we have great reverence, seem 
to get along pretty well without much consciousness 
of God. Few persons in my own world have seemed 
more worthy of honor than my old nurse," says 
Professor Palmer, from whose writings I have so 
far extracted this paper. "She brought me up, 
and to her I owe almost as much as to my own 
mother. She always impressed me as doubtless the 
greatest saint I knew, so devoid of selfishness, so 
intent on cheerful and intelligent service. But she 
had little time for communion with God, and did 
not, so far as I could see, suffer from the lack. She 
was too much occupied with seeing whether I had 
proper stickings on, with contriving how to quiet my 
petulance and get my dinner ready at the right min- 
ute, to be much concerned with her soul or its rela- 
tion to God. She simply went about her work." 

Most of us have had similar experiences, and 
some of us have been a good deal puzzled by them. 

On the other hand, many of us have known per- 
sons who struck us as extremely religious, but whom 
we should not have been quite willing to trust. Their 
religious emotons were a good deal divorced from 
moral responsibility. The newspapers are fond of 
reporting such cases and telling how the defaulting 
cashier was superintendent of a Sunday school. The 
negro on his way home from prayer meeting stops 
to steal a chicken from the roost. Supposing the 
newspapers do not exaggerate, and that our own 
experience supplies corroborative cases, a simple 
explanation is ready. Since everybody assumes the 
close connection of morality and religion, immoral 
men put on a religious cloak. 



RELATION OF ETHICS AND RELIGION 25 

This does not show that the devout and the 
natural are independent matters, for the defaulter 
was not really devout. He was only pretending to 
be. Had he been so, he would have felt the incon- 
gruity of his evil act. This explanation is undoubt- 
edly sufficient for most men, and it is difficult to 
show that it is untrue, but it seems to me improbably 
easy. Our instructor means to say he was devout, 
and that is a more rational explanation than to say 
he was a hypocrite. 

I do not find hypocrites so common. It requires 
a high degree of abstenance and self-denial to make 
a first-class hypocrite — that is, a man who will 
steadily consent not to lead his own life. To most 
of us our life is precious. We want to utter the 
thing that is in our own minds, and not go through 
the world playing a part for which we do not care. 
In the long run, this requires too much constraint 
and too much skill. Momentary pretenses we all 
slip into; but these are very unlike the coherent 
hypocracies which the present explanation requires. 
These are surely of rarer ocurrence than the wrong- 
doings of the devout. 

"I cannot fail to see that a good many persons 
are, so far as I can judge, sincerely religious, when 
not quite responsive to the demands of the natural 
code. I am sorry to say that I find this true of 
myself," so says Professor Palmer. "At my times 
of greatest religious exaltation," says he, "small 
duties do not appeal to me most urgently. There 
seems to be a kind of separation, as if there were 
something in the nature of religious emotion, which 
removed me from earthly duties. When the relig- 
ious impulse is strongest, I am obliged to be espe- 
cially careful if I would not be blind to the plain 
duties of the day. 

"I am much mistaken if the experience of other 
people does not confirm mine. These considerations 



26 RELATION OF ETHICS AND RELIGION 

seem to show that however close the two fields are, 
religion and morality, they are still distinct. 

"But I feel that here, far more than in any other 
case, it is difficult to mark the separation. As a fact, 
we have seen they differ. Why and in what respects 
we must now try to discover." 

The point of view is different, that is all. With 
one it is Godward, with the other it is manward. In 
other words, one commences with God, while the 
other commences with man. 

His view is manward ; the religious view is 
Godward. This contrast is fundamental. Every- 
where the religious soul seeks after God as all in all. 
We are of no consequence. 

Ethics has always looked at the matter in an 
entirely different way. While accepting the eternal 
as that which alone possesses infinite worth, the 
moral mind has asserted that it, too, possesses a 
worth. The statement is presumptuous, but life 
could not go on without it. I have my little world 
to guide, my bread must be earned, my clothes kept 
clean, my hungry neighbor fed. These are small 
acts, but they are worth while; indeed, they call for 
my best thought. These things I consider as 
of such worth that eternal realties are regarded only 
as they furnish strength and order to these. 

Here, then, ethics diverges from religion and 
takes its independent path. It studies infinite prin- 
ciples so far as they receive a finite expression. That 
finite expression is the one important matter. 

This divergence will explain some of the strange 
suggestions just made. I said that I thought I had 
observed that the attitudes of the moral and religious 
man are not merely unlike, but that there is a cer- 
tain conflict between the two. The reason of this 
will be apparent now. 

When attention is turned in one of these direc- 
tions, it is to some degree withdrawn from the 



RELATION OF ETHICS AND RELIGION 27 

other. I cannot at the same moment be conceiving 
of God as the only being of worth, and yet of my 
life — this fragmentary life — as itself a matter of 
worth. I alternate. Now as a religious man, I lay 
chief stress on the one ; Now as a moral man on the 
other. Most certainly the two are inextricably 
involved. They cannot be sundered, but only dis- 
tinguished by the degree of attention. The- two 
fields are supplementary, though attention is pre- 
dominantly given to one or the other. 

It might well be asked which is the proper order 
of acceptance? When we awake to a consciousness 
of the construction of our lives, with the life of the 
whole, and see that it is incumbent on us to serve 
that whole while still serving ourselves and our 
imperfect fellow men, to which side of the complex 
demand shall we primarily address ourselves? Shall 
we say we cannot be moral men until we have 
become religious, or that we cannot become religious 
until we have become moral? Is not the proper 
order first the large 
large to the small? 

I cannot think so, so says Professor Palmer. 
To my mind, the reverse is more nearly the normal 
order. We move best from small moral matters up 
to the larger religious ones. Hence while the two 
are interdependent, it does appear to me that the 
chief stress of attention is primarily demanded by 
the moral side. 

The fact is that the road down — the path from 
the universal to the particular, from a general prin- 
ciple to its applications, from an including law to 
the special fact included under it — is always 
peculiarly treacherous and confusing. 

The road up is man's natural path, the road 
which runs from particular objects and events to 
their including law. Allegiance to God does not 



28 RELATION OF ETHICS AND RELIGION 

disclose what particular act any given instant 
demands. 

First, that which is natural, then that which is 
spiritual. 

All will agree that large considerations are apt 
to be vague. When we lose ourselves in the thought 
of God, we often find that we have indeed lost our- 
selves ; that we have become insensitive to the world 
we inhabit, and are in danger of becoming oblivious 
to its duties. When full of the thought of God, it 
is not impossible to allow a room to go dusty, a bill 
to remain unpaid. Not impossible! It is danger- 
ously natural. We shall be wise to warn ourselves 
when thoughts of God are so dear and uplifting, 
that we must watch the little world which lies 
around us and not, because of devoutness, neglect 
to hear its needy calls - . 

We do not say that ethics leads to religion, 
although they are apt to do so; yet we know of 
ethically minded men who are even atheists. On 
the other hand, religion does not necessarily lead to 
ethics, as shown in the paper. The safer way is 
from ethics to religion, from nature to nature's God, 
as would seem from the following passage: "If 
man loves not his brother whom he has seen, how 
shall he love God whom he hath not seen?" 

And then again, the worthlessness of religion 
without ethics is shown by the words of the last 
judgment, wherein the Lord says to the non-ethical : 
"I was ahungered and ye gave me no meat, I was 
thirsty and ye gave me no drink, sick and in prison 
and ye visited me not. Then shall He say, as ye 
did it not unto one of the least of these ye did it 
not to me." 

When seeking to embody righteousness in petty 
acts, we justly regard ourselves as representing God 
under finite conditions. Morality fulfills itself in 
religion, even though its gaze is directed manward 



RELATION OF ETHICS AND RELIGION 29 

rather than Godward. Kant defines religion as 
morality viewed as a divine command. From this 
it would appear that the ethical road to God is by 
all odds the safer route. At the same time, either 
approach to God, whether by the ethical or spiritual 
route, is doubtless better than no approach at all. 
I make my acknowledgments to Professor Palmer 
for much of the material of this paper. 



Healthy Mindedness 

By the term optimism we mean the doctrine that 
everything in nature is ordered for the best. By 
the word pessimism we mean the opposite — that is, 
that there is more evil than good in nature. I will 
quote from J. S. Mills, a noted English author, to 
show that there are grounds for this latter opinion. 
Says he, in speaking of the forces of nature : 

"The quality that most forcibly strikes everyone 
is their perfect and absolute recklessness. Pope's 
'Shall gravitation cease when you go by?' may be 
a just rebuke to anyone who should be so silly as 
to expect human morality from nature. A man who 
should persist in hurling stones, or firing a cannon 
when another goes by, and having killed him, should 
urge a similar plea in exculpation, would very 
deservedly be found guilty of murder. 

"In sober truth, nearly all of the things which 
we are hanged or imprisoned for doing to one 
another are nature's every-day performances. 

"Killing - , the most criminal act recog'nized by 
human laws, nature does once to every being that 
lives ; in our natural death. Nature impales men, 
breaks them as if on the wheel, causes them to be 
devoured by wild beasts, burns them to death, 
crushes them with stones, starves them with hunger, 
freezes them with cold, poisons them by the quick 
or slow venom of her exhalations, and has hundreds 
<)!* other hideous deaths in reserve. All this nature 
does with the most supercilious disregard both of 
mercy and of justice, emptying her shafts upon the 



HEALTHY MINDEDNBSS 31 

best and noblest indifferently with the meanest and 
worst. She mows down those on whose existence 
hangs the well-being of a whole people with as little 
compunction as those whose death is a relief to 
themselves. Such are nature's dealings with life. 

"Next to taking life, is taking the means by 
which we live, and nature does this, too, on the 
largest scale and with the most callous indifference. 
A single hurricane destroys the hopes of a season; 
a flight of locusts or an inundation desolates a dis- 
trict; a trifling chemical change in an edible root 
starves a million people. 

"The waves of the sea seize and appropriate the 
wealth of the rich and the little all of the poor. 
Everything, in short, which the worst men commit 
either against life or property is perpetrated on a 
large scale by natural agents. 

"Her explosions of fire damp are as destructive 
as human artillery; her plague and cholera surpass 
the most poisonous cups. Even the love of order, 
which is thought to be a following in the ways of 
nature, is in fact a contradiction of them. 

"Anarchy and the reign of terror are over- 
matched in injustice, ruin and death by a hurricane 
and a pestilence. 

"But it is said all these things are for wise and 
good ends. Whether they are or not is altogether 
beside the point." 

The only aclmissable theory of these things is 
that the principle of good cannot at once and 
altogether subdue the powers of evil, either physical 
or moral,- — could not place mankind in a world free 
from the necessity of an incessant struggle with the 
maleficient powers or make them always victorious 
in that struggle, but could and did make them 
capable of carrying on the fight with vigor and 
progressively increasing success. 

According to this theory, man's duty would con- 



32 HEALTHY MINDEDNESS 

sist in standing forward, a not ineffectual aid and 
helper to a being of perfect beneficence. 

It would appear, then, that those who see in the 
nature of things ground for pessimism do so because 
they do not look deep enough. They do not allow 
sufficient importance to the element of time, or to 
human agency in coming to the rescue, and helping 
to make this earth a better world for man to live in. 
The imperfections of the world come from the nar- 
row vision of men, so says Walt Whitman. 

I am an optimist, not an unreasonable one. By 
an unreasonable one, I mean a man who refuses to 
entertain considerations of evil at all, who ignores 
all evil. In the first place, pessimists make a mis- 
take in regarding death as always a curse. Com- 
pared to the infirmities of extreme old age, it is 
seen to be a blessing. As far as natural evils are 
concerned, man can do much to prevent or amelior- 
ate them. By draining swamps he can prevent 
malarial disease, he can do much to prevent small- 
pox, plague, cholera and yellow fever. He can 
insure his crops and buildings. 

As to evils of human origin, by giving them 
some consideration, they may be many times averted 
entirely. If not averted, can be mitigated. Any- 
way, by giving them some forethought we are pre- 
pared for them, — prepared to act when occasion 
requires, and are not paralyzed by their unexpected 
occurrence. Giving thought to such matters helps 
to fortify our characters. 

Savages do not look ahead for good or evil, and 
by adopting unreasonable optimistic views we are 
going backward instead of advancing. 

It is said by reflecting upon evil we favor melan- 
choly moods. What of it? Melancholy has its 
advantages, and some people rather like it. 

I know not to what physical laws philosophers 
will some day refer the feelings of melancholy. 



HBALTHY MINDBDNBSS 33 

"For myself," so writes Saint Perre, "I find that 
they are most voluptuous of all sensations." 

"It is a general rule," so writes Professor 
Royce, of Harvard, "of the two morbidly emotional 
moods, the cheerfully morbid is likely to prove 
worse than the painfully morbid. False despair is 
more benign than false confidence or than vain- 
glory." 

In giving forethought to evil, we should not 
give fearthought, or worry, to them, as Professor 
James, also of Harvard, says, for there is a distinc- 
tion. In worry, the endless question is what shall 
I do? In his despair he tries to prevent all acts, 
until a saving plan shall appear. But let the dreaded 
calamity over which he worried befall him, and he 
becomes cool, and may bear the worst so much 
more easily than he could the uncertainty of worry. 

Worry should not be confounded with restless- 
ness, as the latter is a result of accumulated bodily 
energy, and may be present when the subject is 
happy. It leads to action, whereas worry too fre- 
quently paralyses action. 

That there is such a thing as healthy-mindedness 
in such matters, I think a quotation from Professor 
James, before mentioned, will show : 

"We give the name healthy-mindedness to the 
tendency which looks on all things and sees that 
they are good. We find," says he, "we must dis- 
tinguish between a more involuntary and a more 
voluntary or systematic way of being healthy- 
minded. In its involuntary variety, healthy- 
mindedness is a way of feeling happy about things 
immediately. In its systematical variety, it is an 
abstract way of conceiving things as good. 

"Systematic healthy-mindedness, deliberately 
excludes as evil from its field of vision, and 
although, when thus nakedly stated, this might be 
a difficult feat to perform for one who is intel- 



34 HEALTHY MINDEDNESS 

lectually sincere with himself and honest about 
facts, a little reflection shows that the situation is 
too complex to lie open to so simple a criticism. 

"In the first place, happiness, like every other 
emotional state, has blindness and insensibility to 
opposing facts given it, as its instinctive weapon for 
self-protection against disturbance. 

"When happiness is actually in possession, the 
thought of evil can no more acquire the feeling of 
reality than the thought of good can gain reality 
when melancholy rules." 

To the man actively happy, from whatever 
cause, evil simply cannot then and there be believed 
in. He must ignore it, and to the by-stander he 
may then seem perversely to shut his eyes to it and 
hush it up. 

But more than this : The hushing of it up may 
in a perfectly candid and honest mind, grow into 
a deliberate policy. 

Much of what we call evil is due entirely to the 
way men take the phenomenan. It can so often be 
converted into a bracing and tonic good, by a simple 
change of the sufferer's inner attitude, from one of 
fear to one of fight; its sting so often departs 
and turns into a relish when after vainly seeking to 
shun, it, we agree to face about and bear it cheer- 
fully, that a man is simply bound in honor, with 
reference to many of the facts that seem at first to 
disconcert his peace, to adopt this way of escape. 
Refuse to admit their badness, despise their power, 
ignore their presence, turn your attention the other 
way, and so far as you yourself are concerned at 
any rate, though the facts may still exist, their evil 
character exists no longer. Since you make them 
evil or good by your own thoughts about them, it 
is the ruling of your own thoughts which proves to 
be your principal concern. 

"The deliberate adoption of an optimistic turn of 



HEALTHY MINDBDNBSS 35 

mind thus makes its entrance into philosophy. And 
once in, it is hard to trace its lawful bounds. Not 
only does the human instinct for happiness, bent on 
self-protection by ignoring, keep working in its 
favor, but higher inner ideals have weighty words 
to say. The attitude of unhappiness is not only 
painful — it is mean and ugly. What can be more 
base and unworthy than the pining, puling, mourn- 
ful mood, no matter by what outward ills it may 
have been engendered. What is more injurious to 
others? What is less helpful as a way out of the 
difficulty? It but fastens and perpetuates the trou- 
ble which occasioned it, and increases the total evil 
of the situation. At all costs, then, we ought to 
reduce the sway of that mood; we ought to scout 
it in ourselves and others, and never show it 
tolerance. 

"But it is impossible to carry on this discipline in 
the subjective sphere without zealously emphasizing 
the brighter and minimizing the darker aspect of 
the objective sphere of things at the same time. And 
thus our resolution not to indulge in misery, begin- 
ning at a comparatively small point within our- 
selves, may not stop until it has brought the entire 
frame of reality under a systematic conception 
optimistic enough to be congenial with its needs. 
In- fact, we all do cultivate healthy-mindedness more 
or less, even when our professed theology should in 
consistency forbid it. We divert our attention from 
disease and death as much as we can ; and the 
slaughter-houses and indecencies without end on 
which our life is founded are huddled out of sight 
and never mentioned, so that the world we recog- 
nize is far handsomer and cleaner and better than 
the world that really is." 

"The world is too full of sadness and sorrow, 
misery and sickness ; it needs more sunshine ; it 
needs cheerful lives which radiate gladness ; it needs 



36 HEALTHY MINDEDNBSS 



will encourage, not discourage. 

"Who can estimate the value of a sunny soul 
who scatters gladness and good cheer wherever he 
goes, instead of gloom and sadness? Everybody is 
attracted to these cheerful faces and sunny lives, and 
repelled by the gloomy, the morose and the sad. We 
envy people who radiate cheer wherever they go and 
fling out gladness from every pore. Money, houses 
and lands look contemptible beside such a disposi- 
tion. The ability to radiate sunshine is a greater 
power than beauty, or than mere mental accomplish- 
ments." 

The theory of evolution comes to the aid of 
healthy-mindedness. I want to say here, that this 
doctrine does not deny the existence of God, nor is 
it inconsistent with Christianity, as is shown by 
the fact that many ministers of the gospel are evo- 
lutionists. It simply shows that the work of crea- 
tion is still going on, and indicates the manner in 
which it is going on. 

According to many writers on the doctrine of 
evolution, the struggle for existence is such a war 
of nature, so vast and cruel as to be revolting to our 
instincts, and has proven a stumbling-block in the 
way of those who would gladly believe in an all-wise 
and benevolent ruler of the universe. Thus a bril- 
liant writer says : "Pain, grief, disease and death 
— are these the inventions of a living God ? That no 
animal shall rise to excellence except by being fatal 
to others — is this the law of a kind Creator ?" Even 
so thoughtful a writer as Professor Huxley adopts 
similar views. In a recent article on "The Struggle 
For Existence," he concludes that, since thousands 
of times a minute, were our ears sharp enough, we 
should hear sighs and groans of pain like those 
heard by Dante at the gate of hell, the world cannot 
be governed by what we call benevolence. 



HEALTHY MINDEDNBSS 37 

Now, there is, I think, good reason to believe 
that all this is greatly exaggerated ; that the sup- 
posed torments and miseries of animals, for 
instance, has little real existence. So says Mr. 
Alfred Wallace, a renowned evolutionist; but that 
they are the reflection of the imagined sensations of 
cultured men and women in similar circumstances, 
and that the amount of actual suffering caused by 
the struggle for existence among animals is 
altogether insignificant. In the first place, we must 
remember that animals are entirely spared the pain 
we suffer in the anticipation of death — a pain far 
greater, in most cases, than the reality. This leads, 
probably, to an almost perpetual enjoyment of their 
lives ; since their constant watchfulness against 
danger, and even their actual flight from an enemy, 
will be the enjoyable exercise of their powers and 
faculties, unmixed in most cases with any serious 
dread. The daily search for food employs all their 
faculties and exercises every organ of their bodies, 
while their exercise leads to the satisfaction of 
their physical needs. We can give no more perfect 
definition of happiness of which they are capable. 
A violent and sudden death is in every way the best 
for the animal. 

What really the struggle for existence brings 
about for the animal kingdom is the maximum of 
life and enjoyment of life with the minimum of 
suffering and pain. It is difficult to imagine a sys- 
tem by which a greater balance of happiness could 
have been secured than by the struggle for 
existence. 

The same is true of the struggle for existence 
among men. It gives him something to do, some- 
thing to live for. Were it not for this, there would 
be an insufficient motive to arouse him, to sharpen 
his energies and give him impulses to exert himself 
to his capacity. Were it not for this struggle, life 



38 HEALTHY MINDBDNESS 

would lack something that could not be otherwise 
supplied. From this arises occasions for exercising 
his bodily and mental powers and faculties and for 
alternately resting the same. If these be the ele- 
ments of happiness, if alternate exercise and rest 
be the bread and butter of happiness, as we are sure 
they are, why should we not be happy every moment 
of our normal lives, sickness and dread excepted. 

The dread of death does much to take away our 
happiness, this dread being worse than death itself; 
for death is generally painless, consciousness depart- 
ing generally quite a time before death supervenes. 
I have seen many die, and know that the impure 
blood which results from the failing organs of the 
body in approaching death intoxicates and stupifies 
the mind so that one is dead before he knows that 
he is dying. Why, then, should sinking into a 
peaceful rest be attended with dread. 

The old heathen philosophers used to long to 
pass away and be at rest. 

The reason, then, why we are not happier than 
we are is because we do not understand the secret. 
That secret is that the exercise of our muscles and 
faculties within reason and alternate rest are the 
simple elements of happiness. Hence, whatever 
leads to or enforces such exercise ought to make 
normal creatures enjoy life. 

Do not look too high for beatific pleasures, but 
look for enjoyment in every-day activities, and you 
will find them, just as the animal kingdom does, 
only higher, just in proportion as your faculties are 
higher. 

This is evolution and contributes to healthy- 
mindedness. In the theory of evolution, which, 
gathering momentum for a century, has within the 
last twenty-five years swept over Europe and Amer- 
ica, we see the ground laid for a new sort of healthy- 
mindedness. The idea of a universal evolution lends 



HEALTHY MINDBDNBSS 39 

itself to a general betterment and progress, so well 
that it seems almost as if it might have been created 
for this purpose. 

This doctrine, like Darwinism, made little 
advance at first. It was thought to be atheistic in 
its effects. When Darwinism was found not to be 
so, it spread greatly, so that now there is scarcely 
one who deserves the name of scientist who is not 
an advocate of that doctrine. 

The man who gave a greater impetus to evolution 
than any other was Herbert Spencer. He intro- 
duced it into almost everything he wrote about, and 
it should be remembered that he was an extensive 
author. Today a belief in that doctrine is becoming 
more and more widespread among intelligent people, 
because it is found it does not do away with a 
creator. It shows that it is the way the diety oper- 
ates in nature. 

Spencer introduced this theory into the forma- 
tion of the planets, carrying out the ideas of such 
men as Kant, Laplace and Hershel, making it much 
more extensive. He introduced it into the formation 
of plants and animals on earth, and into the develop- 
ment of man, his physical, mental and moral nature ; 
even into his religion. 

The gist of this doctrine is that all things are 
growing better, more perfect. What a welcome 
doctrine this is. How eagerly it ought to be em- 
braced, and how much comfort it ought to afford 
to the noble-minded. One reason why it is believed 
in is that it is manifest upon close observation. 

It is true that spiritual impulses and conceptions 
and undertakings do not run so exclusively along 
the old hallowed and familiar ways of religion, yet 
the spirit of man has waxed as strong in our time 
as has his hand, and has given itself to works as 
mighty and as influential. There is no doubt the 



40 HEALTHY MINDBDNESS 

world shall be saved by the courage of action and 
the satisfying nobility of unimpeachable conduct. 

It is true the theory of evolution encourages no 
millenium in our day, yet if for millions of years 
our globe has been on the upward road, sometime 
the summit will be reached. 

Whatever any kind of religion may add in con- 
firmation of this theory, is that much in favor of 



Pessimism and Optimism 

In the first place, what is pessimism? It is the 
doctrine that this world is the worst possible. 
Schopenhauer taught that this is the worst of all 
possible worlds and inferred that sleep is better than 
waking, and death than sleep — and the talent in the 
world cannot save it from being odious. Pessimism 
is the tendency to exaggerate in thought the evils 
of life or to look only upon its dark side. Says one, 
"a genuine pessimist should go and drown himself 
as the practical outcome of his belief; if he does 
not, it is because, in spite of the theory, he finds life 
tolerable — and if for him, why may it not be for 
his fellows?" The formula of pessimism is or 
ought to be, that this is the worst of all possible 
worlds, and therefore let each of us get out of it. 
But men sometimes manage to hold a creed without 
realizing its consequences in their imagination. 

Schopenhauer, the great apostle of pessimism, so 
far as he was sincere and consistent, was so in 
virtue of his coldness of heart, the "luminous selfish- 
ness" which guided him through life. He was never 
guilty of really associating with anybody, we are 
told. In fact, Schopenhauer, as later found out, 
was an insane man, and it is no wonder, as his doc- 
trine was enough to run him or anyone else crazy. 

Browning has been classed wrongly as a pessi- 
mist. That he should be called such seems wonder- 
ful. To recognize the force of circumstance and 
the fatality of chance in the life of man, the 
irretrievableness of his mistakes, his capacity for 

41 



42 PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 

suffering, the possibility of his deepest joys trans- 
form themselves into his most poignant griefs, the 
frustration of hope and the heart-sickness of unful- 
filled desire — to see and feel all this does not make 
a man a pessimist. Browning's world, it is true, 
is not made up of saints and heroes, but of strug- 
gling, sinning, sorrowing men and women; yet in 
his creed they have always the power to erect 
themselves above themselves. The infinite nature 
of human spirit, Browning tells us, again and again 
is the source of man's earthly sorrows and joys, his 
aspiration and progress, present imperfection and 
ultimate perfectibility. 

The next writer to whom we will devote atten- 
tion is Mallock, who wrote greatly against optimism 
of a certain kind. He claimed that human progress 
does not argue in favor of optimism, but we shall 
see later that, in a certain sense of the word, it does. 
If optimism means that the world is already perfect, 
then the progress of man cannot favor it, but we 
shall see that, in our understanding of the word, it 
means no such thing. 

His strongest arguments, however, were against 
the religion of humanity, and rightly so. Of this 
religion, Auguste Comte was the main champion, 
and of him, it may be said that he suffered a 
cerebral attack and afterward took up some very 
crazy notions. But of greater importance is the 
thought of the origin of humanity according to the 
theory of the evolutionists. If one can find no 
higher ideal to worship than humanity — considering 
its origin — Mallock was right in attacking it. After 
all, his doctrine was not so much in favor of 
pessimism as against the arguments he himself set 
up against optimism for the pleasure of knocking 
them down. 

Pessimism is that theory of philosophical 
speculation that the world in which we live, the 



PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 43 

personal environment of individuals, and the general 
social condition, are the worst that could possibly 
exist, and that unhappiness is the normal rule of 
human existence. It has remained for modern 
thinkers to revive the theory, that unhappiness is the 
predominating element in mortal life, and that it is 
better never to have lived than to live ; and that the 
end of life is the only refuge against misery. 

It will here be perceived that this exposition may 
be traced to Buddhism, which advocates the 
annihilation of egotist craving, the extinction of 
natural passion, the aspiration after rest as the end 
of human desire, whether conscious or not. 

The pessimist asserts that consciousness is a 
source of misery and wretchedness, and that the 
evils we see and feel can never end, unless they end 
in us by the abolition of that sense of individuality 
which convinces us that we are surrounded by a 
condition of things whose painfulness we can neither 
cure nor surmount ; and that our redemption from 
the death of an existence, merely selfish and animal, 
is desirable. 

In proposing an antidote for pessimism, asks 
Mr. Charles Nisbet, where, then, is the moral gov- 
ernment of the world, the ideal tendency of things, 
the high and lofty destinies, and all that ? Schopen- 
hauer and Bahnsen, earnest thinkers, arrive, after 
exhaustive examination and mature deliberation, at 
the conclusion that the world is not the best, but the 
worst conceivable, the best possible issue for it being 
annihilation, man's greatest misfortune birth, his 
greatest happiness death. 

And yet the everlasting impossibility of accept- 
ing this as a final statement proves unquestionably 
its partiality — proves there must be a different and 
broader verdict. 

Life is hope ; is struggle upward and onward. 
Healthy and robust life can set no final goal to its 



44 PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 

endeavors and hopes, but carries deep into its bosom 
the promise of quite an infinity of inheritance — 
dim and unconscious, perhaps, yet latently warm 
and unquestioning. 

Despair is death; declension from once recog- 
nized higher ideas is degeneration; violation of 
principles of honor and justice once recognized is 
inevitable injury. In the active furtherance of 
spiritual or universal ends alone has man solid and 
complete satisfaction. 

Schopenhauer's philosophy is one of despair, so 
says Hartman; but so far is this from being the 
worst of all possible worlds that it is the best, for 
it tends invincibly to the chief good extinction of all 
being. Schopenhauer was truly a bungler. But 
the reader can see how little living seriousness Hart- 
man possesses. 

But the thing which to our Anglo-Saxon mind 
seems so outlandish is that crowds of lively fellows, 
revelling in animal spirits and conscious strength, 
should enroll themselves in Hartman's ranks of 
pessimism, in cold blood, as his permanent apostles, 
and feel as sorely when their pessimism is attacked 
as the fabled old dead inmate of the almshouse did 
when, not good enough for heaven, she was also 
shut out of hades, and sat on the road and wept 
that she should have to return — to Tewksbury 
asylum. 

The truth is the mixture and antithesis, is the 
appetizing quality in the fore of life. The dangers, 
misunderstandings, jealousies, errors and seductions 
on the one hand; on the other hand, the joy in 
healthy relations to the sensuous world ; whoever 
will realize all these things will not underrate life 
on this planet, but will prize it. 

This confused world of good and evil is the right 
arena and training school for battle, enterprise, 
patience — for all the active and indeed also all the 



PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 45 

passive virtues. The baseness, stupidity, folly, 
injustice, suffering and wreck this world everywhere 
presents are always a splendid challenge to strength, 
diligence, endurance, faith, wisdom — to all sublime 
and manly qualities. Sloth, indolence, sweet 
dreaminess, and credulity, have a hard time of it 
here — meet every day with the shrewdest rubs and 
tosses till they are either forced into wakefulness 
or gored into death. Only the man who lives 
industriously, moderately, honestly, and truthfully, 
advances to higher disclosures. The personal pain, 
languishment and imbitterness do not for the brave 
man lessen his appreciation of life, but by persistent 
well-doing he subdues and converts contrarities into 
furtherances. 

Think what sort of a world it would be without 
the pain and persecution we suffer. Yes, this earth 
is dear to mortal men, not merely in spite of its 
tears and crosses, but also on account of them. 

For, indeed, we prize life not by the sum of our 
possessions, but only by the rate and steadiness of 
our growth. "Not the possession," says Lessing, 
"or fancied possession of the truth, but the endeavor 
after it, determines a man's value." And out of the 
perplexities and corruptions and misunderstandings 
of human affairs we have in nature, which ever 
overcanopies and surrounds us, a retreat into the 
beautiful where we can evermore refresh our sense, 
and in the conviction of the good. 

The sun, stars, woods, grasses, shells, birds and 
wild creatures are not corrupt, or at least do not 
suggest to man, when he contemplates them as a 
whole, images of corruption. But the poor besotted 
wretch beholds a perfect splendor in the sun, the 
prey of ruinous appetites looks into an eye of inno- 
cence in the flower, the bankrupt gazes round and 
above him, and wonders why in a royal palace he 
should be a blot and disgrace. 



46 PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 

"I should not choose a life of uninterrupted 
pleasure were the world to engage its utmost to 
secure it me," says one. "The lightning is born of 
the darkness, and the battle, joy and splendor of 
life are to be measured by the amount of opposition 
overcome." 

Let us, with assured hearts, trust the course of 
all who have created the good and the evil, but have, 
we believe, made the evil to be ultimately sub- 
servient to the good. 

There are no means of measuring or weighing 
our pains and pleasures in the world as it is, but we 
are confident that if our pains exceeded our pleas- 
ures, life could not endure, unless it should be on 
the hope of improvement in the future. 

The opinion that this world, physically, socially 
and morally, is the best that could possibly exist is 
optimism; this includes the potentialities of man. 
The optimist looks upon existence as a great and 
unmixed good. Some advocates of optimism have 
maintained that the presence of evil teaches man- 
kind to discern and choose the good, by striving, 
through suffering and self-exertion, to attain the 
blessedness which is in the reach of all alike. 

These have maintained a conditional optimism; 
that is one conditioned that we are helping agents. 
Upon this condition, it is the best of possible worlds 
if we desire it and help to make it so. On the other 
hand, it is the worst of all possible worlds if we 
desire it and help to make it so. In recent times 
optimistic theory has been associated almost entirely 
with the ideas of improvement and progress, and 
the whole effort of many men is to make this a better 
world. 

We may not talk of optimism being true, but 
of its becoming true. The full verification must be 
contingent on our complicity, both theoretical and 
practical. All that optimism asserts is that the facts 






PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 47 

of the world are a fit basis for the chief good, if we 
do our share and react upon them, as it is meant we 
should (with fortitude, for example, and undis- 
mayed hope). 

The world is thus absolutely good only in a 
potential or hypothetic sense. And the hypothetic 
form of the optimistic belief is the very signature 
of its consistency and first condition of its proba- 
bility, and faith is the only legitimate attitude of 
mind it can claim from us. This is what optimism, 
when assented to, and acting on the emotions, claim 
to do for conduct, and, indeed, it is no slight thing. 

It is a thing that makes all the difference 
between the life of a race of brutes and the life of 
a race with something which we have hitherto called 
divine in it. 

Optimism asserts that the human race, as a 
whole, is a progressive and improving organism, 
and the consciousness on the part of the individual 
that such is the case, will be the principal cause of 
its continued progress in the future, and will make 
the individual a devoted and happy partaker of it. 

For my present purpose, the word optimism is 
good enough, although it is sometimes used with a 
meaning which many devotees of the religion of 
humanity would repudiate. 

George Eliot, for instance, declared she was 
not an optimist. "Things were not for the best," she 
said, "but they were always tending to get better." 
Nobody, again, lays greater or more solemn weight 
on the doctrine of progress than does Mr. John 
Morley, and yet nobody would more literally ridi- 
cule the doctrines of certain optimists, particularly 
that of Dr. Pangloss, whose favorite maxim is that 
"all is for the best, in this best of possible worlds." 

But, in spite of the sober and even somber view 
which such thinkers take of the human lot, they still 
believe that it holds some distinct and august mean- 



48 PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 

ing; that the tides of affairs, however troubled, do 
not eddy aimlessly, and do not flow toward the 
darkness, but keep due on toward the light, however 
distant. 

They believe, in short, that the human lot has 
something in it, which makes it, in the eyes of all 
who can see clearly, a thing to be acquiesced in, not 
merely with resignation, but devoutness. 

And now, having seen what optimism is, let us, 
before going farther, make ourselves quite clear as 
to what results in life its exponents claim for it. 
They do not claim for it, as has been sometimes 
claimed for Christianity, that it is the foundation of 
the moral code. Our modern optimists, without a 
single exception, so says one, hold the foundation 
of the moral code to be social. In other words, 
the end of moral conduct being the welfare of 
society. Our assent to the creed of optimism makes 
that welfare incalculably nearer and dearer to us 
than it would be otherwise, and converts a mere 
avoidance of such overt acts as would injure it 
into a willing, a constant and eager effort to 
promote it. 

"Nor is optimism," says Philips Brooks, "the 
belief that this is a thoroughly good world in which 
we live; nor is it simply a careless passing over of 
the evils of life because we do not choose to look at 
them. On the contrary, a man is an optimist just 
because he thinks the world a good one, because he 
sees whiteness in it, because he sees its possibilities 
behind every accomplishment. 

"Nor is optimism a way of seeing how every- 
thing is going to come out for good. One may say, 
what sort of optimism is that which does not know 
how evil is going to be eradicated? On the other 
hand, what is it ? It is a great belief in a great pur- 
pose underlying the world for good, for human ful- 
fillment, which is absolutely certain to fulfill itself, 



PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 49 

somehow, somewhere? Where or how, I do not 
know. That is optimism." So says that divine. 

"Who are they that have been optimists?" asks 
he. That is one way we judge of the deepest truths 
of any thought. Have they been men who dwelt 
upon the surface of things? I cannot call their 
names, for they are legion, but the poets are all 
optimists. Tennyson, sad as he is, sings it every 
day. It was the same with Browning, and with 
our own Lowell and his great strains; and it was 
the same with Whittier, too, who had a hope. They 
were men who were poets because their souls were 
full of the certainty of the fulfillment of human life. 

When one escapes out of the fog of pessimism, 
he often finds himself in a world which is less 
brutally lustful and sordid, is less full of weariness 
and disease and melancholy. 

It ought to be remembered that the course of a 
great deal of current pessimism is to be found in 
evil living. The man who is violating the laws of 
life cannot be expected to think well of them. 

All testimony of men of this class ought to be 
rejected, for it is generally known that extravigance, 
dissipation, dishonesty and intemperance have their 
just punishment here. 

"The simple fact that men have the power of 
rationally adapting means to ends is enough to 
prompt to effort and inspire hope, for in this power 
lies the key to the highest possibilities of advance- 
ment. He who knows can, and as long as this is 
the case, the path of knowledge will be the upward 
path." So says Mr. W. D. Le Sueur. 

All that can be said is that, taking the world 
and human consciousness as they are, there seems 
to be one line of conduct which best subserves 
human interests. That line consists in practicing 
the lessons that nature and history have taught us, 
using our faculties for the acquisition of real knowl- 



50 PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 

edge and our powers of foresight for a wise adjust- 
ment of present action to further needs and results. 

In spite of Mr. Mallock's theory, from the com- 
mencement of history down to the present day, 
there has been one way of being noble, and that has 
been by caring for one's fellow-men. In the present 
day, when the laws of social development and the 
true relations of individual life are so much better 
understood than formerly, there ought to be, and 
there is, much more to nourish in individuals a 
rational regard for the general welfare. The case 
is one calling for the higher life of society, without 
which the individual would starve. 

The scientific solution may be -summed up in 
the word adaptation. There is a law in things 
which slowly reveals to careful observation, and just 
as the law is read, learned, marked and obeyed does 
human life grow in value and more and more convey 
its own justifications within itself. 

"Supposing it possible that religion should, in the 
future, take the form of an earnest study of the 
laws of life and of morality, personal and social, 
who can forecast the glory that might yet be 
revealed in this despised humanity of ours ? If any- 
thing will thus transfigure society, we venture to 
affirm that it will be science pursued in a religious 
spirit — that is, regarded as a ministry of truth and 
good to mankind." So says Le Sueur. 

That man can, and does, improve the physical 
condition of the earth, making it a more suitable 
dwelling place, is evident on every hand. 

To enumerate briefly : In the way of encroach- 
ing upon its forests, converting them into tillable 
fields; he both drains and irrigates the soil, and 
when we consider the mighty effects of both, we 
see that his part is wonderful ; he fortifies rivet- 
banks and maritime coasts, and constructs artificial 
canals ; he drains large lakes and swamps ; he 



PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 51 

tunnels under mountains, under rivers and cities, for 
railroad construction and other purposes, and cuts 
great ship canals, separating great natural bodies of 
land. These huge enterprises greatly modify the 
surface of the earth. He domesticates animals and 
improves them by breeding; also improves vege- 
tables, plants and trees by husbandry, and estab- 
lishes fish hatcheries. 

Man is also great in altruistic projects which 
help his fellows and make life agreeable, such as 
the construction and operating of railroads, tele- 
graph lines, telephones, newspapers, and a thousand 
other useful enterprises. If, as evolutionists claim, 
we have come up from the lowest form of organized 
matter (and many of the most noted theologians 
of the present day admit it), then there is no reason 
to believe that man has stopped short in his upward 
career. On the contrary, as mind is undoubtedly 
an ulterian goal of the process, there is every reason 
to believe that whether or not his body has stopped 
in its upward progress, that mentally and 
morally he is still advancing, and that we are grow- 
ing wiser and better. This is shown by his 
altruistic works. 

Knowing the value of education in improving 
the mind and morals of the young, he takes par- 
ticular pains that it receives proper attention, not 
only in the simple branches, but in higher studies, 
believing that familiarity with the reign of law in 
the universe will give system to the thoughts and 
morals of those who pursue such studies. 
He constructs and maintains free libraries, where 
all may secure such knowledge. Knowing that 
civilization raises the savage from the condition of 
a brute to that of a useful citizen, he takes pains 
that useful arts and the sciences are inculcated. 

But the best evidences of the usefulness of man, 
and that the world is growing better, is seen in the 



52 PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 

treatment of defectives. Take the treatment of 
criminals. Time was when they were kept under- 
ground, chained together in gangs, by the neck, and 
not allowed to move away from each other for any 
purpose whatever. As a result, prisons were hor- 
ribly filthy and hotbeds of pestilence. Whereas our 
modern prisons are models of cleanliness, health and 
routine. 

Similar remarks might be made of the treat- 
ment of the insane. In the past, they were chained 
like wild beasts, or kept in cages with a bed of 
straw, and their food was thrown to them as if they 
were dangerous animals. Today they are treated 
like human beings. 

But the greatest power of man in helping his 
fellows is seen in his prevention of epidemics of 
sickness, such as those of malaria, smallpox, yellow 
fever and cholera. And then there are the arrange- 
ments for caring for the sick poor. Their way is 
paid by the authorities until they get on their feet 
again. 

If these do not show that the world is growing 
better, I should like to know what would be neces- 
sary to establish that fact. Does not this progress 
in the past lead us to hope that there is in store for 
us in the future things concerning which we dare 
not dream? And this hope helps to bring these 
destinies to their fruition. Therefore, whether the 
world is actually growing greatly better should not 
affect us seriously, since our thinking it is, helps to 
make it so. Hence, optimism is a better work- 
ing theory than pessimism, and it is far more 
comforting. 



Nervous Derangements 

OR 

Some of the Causes Which Lead to Sensorial 
Deception 

There is an inherent tendency in the mind of 
man to ascribe supernatural agencies to those events 
the causes of which are beyond his knowledge, and 
this is especially the case with the normal and 
morbid phenomena which are manifested in his own 
person. But, as his intellect becomes more thor- 
oughly trained, the range of his credulity becomes 
more and more circumscribed, his doubts are multi- 
plied, and he at length reaches that condition of 
''healthy skepticism which allows of no belief with- 
out the proof." 

But there have always been individuals whose 
love for the marvelous is so great and whose logical 
powers are so small, as to render them susceptible 
of entertaining - any belief, no matter how preposter- 
ous it may be ; and others who accept any 
hypothesis which may be offered as an explanation, 
rather than confess their ignorance. 

As regards purely imaginary images — that is, 
images not based on any sensorial impression — the 
trouble is in the brain. An excess or deficiency of 
blood circulating through this organ, or a morbid 
alteration of its quality, will often lead to various 
hallucinations. 

Various mental emotions act in a like manner 
by their influence in deranging the cerebral cir- 
culation. 

5- 53 



54 NERVOUS DERANGEMENTS 

A young lady who had overtasked her mind at 
school was thrown thereby into a semi-hysterical 
condition, during which she saw specters of various 
kinds which passed and re-passed rapidly before her 
all day long. Everything at which she looked 
appeared to her of enormous size. A head, for 
instance, seemed to be several feet in diameter, and 
little children looked like giants. 

Physical causes calculated to increase the 
amount of blood or to alter its quality may have this 
effect. A similar instance is related in Nicholson's 
Journal. "I knew a gentleman," he states, "in the 
vigor of life who, in my opinion, is not exceeded by 
any one in acquired knowledge and originality of 
deep research, and who for nine months in suc- 
cession was always visited by a figure of the same 
man, threatening to destroy him, at the time of his 
going to rest. It appeared upon his lying down, 
and instantly disappeared when he resumed the erect 
position. The explanation here is very simple. The 
recumbent position facilitated the flow of blood to 
the brain. Hence the appearance of the figure was 
clue to the resulting congestion. 

"A curious illustration of the influence of the 
imagination in magnifying the perceptions of sen- 
sorial impressions derived from the outer world, 
occurred during the conflagration at the Crystal 
Palace in the winter of 1866-7. When the animals 
were destroyed by the fire, it was supposed that the 
chimpanzee had succeeded in escaping from his 
cage. Attracted to the roof with this expectation 
in full force, men saw the unhappy animal holding 
on to it and writhing in agony to get astride one 
of the iron ribs. It need not be said that its strug- 
gles were watched by those below with breathless 
suspense, and, as the newspapers informed us. with 
'sickening dread.' 

"But there was no animal whatever there, and 



NERVOUS DERANGEMENTS 55 

all this feeling was thrown away upon a tattered 
piece of blind, so torn as to resemble to the eye of 
fancy the body, arms and legs of an ape." 

There is one force which excites the astonish- 
ment of the vulgar, and which it is inexplicable to 
many who consider themselves learned, and that is 
animal electricity. Yet all our knowledge of animal 
electricity tends to show that it does not differ in 
any essential particular from the galvanism devel- 
oped outside of the body by chemical action; and 
that the tissues of the body, the bones, muscles, 
nerves, etc., act toward it precisely as they do 
toward the galvanism which passes along an iron 
or copper wire and sets a telegraphic instrument in 
operation. 

Concentrated attention is a source of erroneous 
sensorial impressions. The attention, when concen- 
trated upon any particular thing or part of the body, 
will often lead to erroneous conclusions. An 
observer, gazing anxiously out to sea or across a 
vast plain, will scarcely ever fail to see the object 
of which he is in search; and pains, tastes, odors, 
and even disease, can frequently be thus originated. 
Thus, a lady who is of a very impressionable organ- 
ization, may be able at will to produce a pain in any 
part of her body by steadily fixing her attention 
upon it. Physicians know very well that actual 
organic disease may be produced by the habitual 
concentration of the attention on an organ. The 
fancies of the hypochondriac may thus in time 
become realities. 

A timid woman goes to bed after having read 
accounts or listened to stories of house-burnings. 
Her attention is concentrated upon the one object, 
and before she goes to sleep she sees lights, hears 
the crackling of the flames, and smells the smoke. 

Sleight-of-hand has been made use of to produce 
the most extravagant deceptions, by carrying the 



56 NERVOUS DERANGEMENTS 

attention away from the proposition before us and 
preparing the way for the most outlandish decep- 
tions. The perfection to which this art is carried by 
accomplished performers is really remarkable, and 
is much more wonderful than would be real visita- 
tions of spiritual beings. For when we are deceived, 
with all the elements of knowledge at our command, 
it is certainly more astounding than would be the 
actual appearance before our eyes of something 
which no one had ever seen before and of which 
no one knew anything. 

For instance, "a man stands before us, clothed 
in ordinary apparel, and on an open stage of a 
theater, with no drapery within reach, and nothing 
to obstruct our full view of him. He takes a white 
cambric handkerchief out of his coat pocket, and 
holds it in both hands stretched out before him. He 
then, still holding one corner with his left hand, 
seizes the other corner with his teeth, and with the 
free right hand proceeds to take from under the 
handkerchief bowl after bowl, to the number of a 
dozen, full of water to the brim, and each contain- 
ing several gold fish. Now, such things are to me 
more wonderful deceptions, as they are avowed to 
be, for he admits and claims that they are imposi- 
tions upon the eyesight of his audience, than would 
be the apparition of a ghost of a person I knew to 
be dead. A man in evening dress cannot reason- 
ably be supposed to be able to carry a dozen gallon 
bowls, full of water and fish, in his waistcoat 
pockets. Such capacity is not for a moment to be 
admitted, and yet he, in some way or other, deceives 
the eyes of the hundreds of persons who are watch- 
ing with every intention of detecting him if they 
can. 

"Another places a stool in full view of the spec- 
tators, and on this stool puts a large empty basket. 
There is no curtain around the stool, and it would 



NERVOUS DBRANGBMBNTS 57 

apparently be impossible for anything to pass 
through the bottom of the basket without being 
seen by everyone present. A woman then gets into 
the basket, the lid is closed, and the performer, 
drawing a long, sharp sword, plunges it in all 
directions into the basket. Shrieks and groans, 
gradually getting fainter and fainter, apparently 
come from the basket, showing the presence of the 
ventriloquist; blood, or what has the appearance of 
blood, drops from the sword, and, finally, the cries 
having ceased, the performer desists from his hor- 
ribly realistic performance and announces that he 
has done a part of his task, and will now proceed 
to its conclusion. He calls loudly in an unknown 
tongue, and straightway the woman who had 
entered the basket walks into the room from the 
farther end and takes her place upon the stage with 
as much cool blood as though she had not been 
just butchered in the presence of four or five hun- 
dred people. The conviction of a woman going into 
a basket is that she cannot get out of it in our pres- 
ence and within our view without our knowledge, 
and when she does get out under these circuirn 
stances, we are naturally astonished." 

And yet the most of sleight-of-hand performers 
do not claim there is anything unnatural in it. 
Unnatural as it may appear, those who allege that 
supernatural agents, such as spirits, are the efficient 
workers in such phenomena are either themselves 
deluded or are the base deluders of others — in other 
words, are villains. 

A sleight-of-hand performer knows very well 
the great advantage of being able to engage the 
attention of those whom he is deceiving. Mention 
has already been hinted at of this element as a 
source of inattention to other things which are going 
on around. It is the drawing away of the attention 
from those other things that is the secret of the 



58 NERVOUS DERANGEMENTS 

success. The fact that soldiers have been severely 
wounded in battle without knowing it till faintness 
supervened or the contest was over, is a familiar 
fact. Because the attention was engaged in such 
a way as to draw it off from themselves. 

When, in addition, the performer is enabled to 
accompany his operations with imposing rites and 
ceremonies, or an appearance of mystery or awe, 
his success with a certain class of observers is still 
more certain, for not only does he deceive their 
senses, but he imposes on their understandings. 

The perfection to which tricks of sleight of hand 
can be brought is remarkable. In the East Indies, 
the jugglers, in their dexterity, surpass the tricks 
of experts of the western world, and they do not 
pretend that their performances are anything than 
adroit tricks. 

Thus the Hindoo magician causes flowers to 
grow several feet in a few minutes, changes his rod 
into a serpent, suspends himself in the air, kills 
people and restores them to life, and even allows 
himself to be buried several months in the earth to 
be dug up at the end of that time alive. In the way 
of conjuring, nothing can exceed the skill of the 
East Indian jugglers. Two hundred and fifty years 
ago they were even more expert than now. For 
instance, the conjurers were desired to produce upon 
the spot, and from seeds, ten mulberry trees. They 
immediately planted ten seeds, which in a few min- 
utes produced as many trees, each, as they grew into 
the air, spreading forth their branches and yielding 
excellent fruit. But this was not all. Before the 
trees were removed, there appeared among the 
foliage birds of such surprising beauty in color and 
shape and melody of song as the world never saw 
before. At the close of the operation, the foliage, 
as in autumn, was seen to put on its varied tints, 



NERVOUS DERANGEMENTS 59 

and the trees gradually disappeared into the earth 
from which they had been made to spring. 

They produced a chain fifty feet in length, and 
threw one end of it toward the sky, where it 
remained as if fastened to something in the air. A 
dog was then brought forward, and, being placed 
at the lower end of the chain, immediately ran up 
it, and, reaching the other end, disappeared in the 
air. At last they took down the chain and put it 
into a bag. 

Yet these magicians and jugglers do not pretend 
to be endowed with supernatural powers; still they 
so overpower and deceive the senses as to make them 
see the sights and hear the sounds they set out to 
produce. 

Among nervous disorders we may mention 
natural somnambulism. In the condition known as 
somnambulism, there appears to be a more or less 
perfect state of automatism, or self-moving capacity, 
which is the governing power of the individual. 
Certain faculties and senses are intensely exalted, 
while others are as completely suspended in action. 
If the attention can be concentrated upon any par- 
ticular idea, circumstance or object, great lucidity 
is manifested. On the other hand, there may be, 
and generally is, the most profound abstraction of 
mind in regard to all other ideas and things. 

One of the causes of this state is a particular 
nervous temperament which predisposes individuals 
otherwise in good health to paroxysms of somnam- 
bulism during their ordinary sleep. Or it may 
result as a consequence of a high degree of mental 
exaltation. 

A word or two with regard to Jane Rider, the 
Springfield, Mass., somnambulist, will be both 
instructive and interesting: 

She was seventeen years of age, intelligent, of 
mild and obliging disposition. Her education was 



60 NERVOUS DERANGEMENTS 

good for her class of society. She was of full habit, 
but was subject to headaches, and about three years 
previously was affected for several months with 
St. Vitus' dance. Dr. Belden, who saw her in one 
of her paroxysms, says of her : 

"It was determined to allow her to take her own 
way, and watch her movements. Having dressed 
herself, she went down stairs and proceeded to make 
preparations for breakfast. She set the table, 
arranged the various articles with the utmost pre- 
cision, went into a - dark room and into a closet at 
the remotest corner, from which she took the coffee 
cups, placed them on a waiter, turned it sideways 
to pass through the doors, avoided all intervening 
obstacles and deposited the whole safely on the 
table. She then went into the pantry, the blinds of 
which were shut, and the door closed after her. She 
then skimmed the milk, poured the cream into one 
cup and the milk into another without spilling a 
drop. She then cut the bread, placed it regularly on 
the plate, and divided the slices in the middle. In 
fine, she went through the whole operation with as 
much precision as the cook in open day; and this 
with her eyes closed and without any light, except 
that from one lamp which was standing in the break- 
fast room to enable the family to observe her 
operations. 

"During the whole time, she seemed to take no 
notice of those around her, unless they purposely 
stood in her way, or placed chairs or other obstacles 
before her, when she avoided them, with an expres- 
sion of impatience at being thus disturbed. 

"She finally returned voluntarily to bed, and on 
finding the table arranged for breakfast when she 
made her appearance in the morning, inquired why 
she had been allowed to sleep while another per- 
formed her work. None of the transaction of the 



NERVOUS DERANGEMENTS 61 

preceeding night had left the slightest impression on 
her mind." 

She had many more paroxysms similar in gen- 
eral character to that just described. Though it was 
found that her sense of sight was greatly increased 
in acuteness, she had no clairvoyance, properly so 
called. It was ascertained, too, that, though she had 
no recollection when awake of what she had done 
during a paroxysm, she remembered in one par- 
oxysm the events of the preceding one. Finally, 
under suitable treatment her seizures disappeared 
altogether. 

Upon examination, it was found that she not 
only had paroxysm of natural somnambulism, but 
that she had acquired the power of inducing the 
hypnotic state at will. 

Her process was to take up some of the 
philosophic works she was in the habit of studying, 
select a paragraph which required intense thought 
or excited powerful emotion, read it, close the book, 
fix her eyes steadily, and then reflect deeply upon 
what she had read. From the reverie thus occa- 
sioned she gradually passed into the somnambulic 
condition. During this state, it was said she 
answered questions correctly, read books held behind 
her, described scenes passing in distant places, and 
communicated messages from the dead. 

Women have repeatedly been placed in the 
hypnotic state, and surgical operations have been 
performed which would otherwise have caused great 
pain, without the least sensation having been experi- 
enced. 

In a paper of this kind it is not expected that 
hysteria can be treated of with any degree of ful- 
ness. All that is necessary is to make the reader 
understand the relations which it bears to various 
delusions. There is a strong tendency in all persons 



62 NERVOUS DERANGEMENTS 

afflicted with this disease to the occurrence of 
symptoms which stimulate organic disease. 

Paralysis, both of motion and of sensation, is 
one of the morbid conditions thus assumed. Thus 
a hysterical woman will suddenly take to her bed, 
and declare that she has no feeling- and no power in 
her arms or legs. The most careful examination 
shows that she is speaking the truth. Pins may be 
thrust into the affected limb, it may be scorched, and 
yet the possessor does not wince. A somewhat 
analogous state exists in us all at times. When the 
mind is intensely occupied, or the passions greatly 
aroused, there is a like insensibility to pain. 

I will briefly mention one case of Hystro- 
Epilepsy : "It began with slight tetanic rigidity, then 
there were slight clonic convulsions, epileptiform in 
character, with foaming at the mouth, and then the 
consciousness having been regained the volitional 
muscular contractions made their appearance, as well 
as a higher state of delirium. The face twitched, 
the tongue was protruded, the eyes rolled. She 
seized books and other articles within her reach and 
hurled them about the room. She swore fearfully 
and uttered the most obscene words with a horrible 
leer on her face. Then she threw herself on the 
floor and kicked, rolled and tossed about, without 
regard to decency or the safety of her own or others' 
limbs. She dashed her head against a chair, 
scratched her face, tore her hair and beat her breast. 
Finally, she fell asleep utterly exhausted, and did 
not awake for several hours. 

"She professed, evidently with truth, that she 
had no recollection of what had taken place." 

There are many other forms of nervous disorder 
we might refer to, such as Catelepsy, Ecstacy, 
Stigmatization, and such as occur in religious 
revivals, as manifested by the Jerkers and Shakers, 
for instance ; but I will conclude bv reference to a 



NERVOUS DERANGEMENTS 63 

couple of other forms of hysteria, to-wit : Devil 
Dancing and the Laughing Gift. A devil has been 
angered and must be propitiated. Beat the tom-tom 
louder ! Let the fattest sheep be offered as a pro- 
pitiation ! Let the horns blaze out as the priest rolls 
about in the giddy dance and gashes himself in his 
frenzy ! More fire ! Quicker music ! Wilder bounds 
from the devil dancers ! Shrieks, and laughter, and 
sobs, and frantic shouts ! Ha, ha ! The God is in 
me and shrieks ! I will solace you, cure you, God 
is in me, and I am God ! Hack and slaughter — the 
blood of the sacrifice is sweet ! Another fowl ; 
another goat — quick ! I am athirst for blood ! Such 
are the words which hoarsely burst from the froth- 
ing lips of the devil-dancer, as he bounds and leaps 
and gyrates, with short, sharp cries, and red eyes 
almost staring from their sockets. 

Take last the Laughing Gift. Often some one 
will feel a gift and will begin with he, he, he; 
ha, ha, ha; ho, ho, ho. Another takes it up, and 
soon all in the room are engaged in boisterous laugh- 
ter. Once under full "laughing gift," they will 
hold on to their sides and reel in theip chairs till 
they become exhausted. This gift ends in a song : 
Ho, ho, ho ; he, he, he ! 
O, what a pretty little path I see ! 
Pretty path, pretty play, 
Pretty little angels; 
Hay, hay, hay! 

The first and last lines are sung with a loud 
laugh. 

This paper was extracted partly from the writ- 
ings of Wm. A. Hammond, professor of diseases 
of the mind and nervous system in the University of 
New York City. 



Superstitions 



One definition given of superstition is a belief 
in what is absurd, or belief without evidence. 
Another is a belief in the direct agency of superior 
powers, in certain extraordinary or singular events, 
or in omens and prognostics. 

In primitive times the sufferer from disease was 
subjected to cruelties, and even death, in order to 
expel the demon which was supposed to harrass him. 
Among savage tribes, as, for instance, in our Ameri- 
can Indians, the loss of life from this cause was 
very great, perhaps greater than from their frequent 
wars. There can be no question that, next after 
war, superstition was the most oppressive evil of 
early peoples. At any moment a person might be 
found guilty of being possessed of a demon, for 
which the treatment was usually a painful death. 

I may say in the beginning that it is only by 
exposing fallacies that we can hope for their extinc- 
tion, but this is no easy matter, remembering the 
axiom that "there is no truth, however pure and 
sacred, upon which falsehood can not fasten and 
ingraft itself therein." 

The results of science cannot dispel superstition 
in the ignorant, from the view-point of the supersti- 
tious man. A wagon moving without horses, a 
message sent without wires, or a train propelled by 
an unseen current adds to the miracle of it all. 

I will quote somewhat extensively from Herbert 
Spencer as to the genesis of superstitions : 

"Comprehension of the thoughts generated in 



SUPERSTITIONS 65 

primitive man by his converse with the surrounding 
world can be had only by looking at the surrounding 
world from his standpoint," so says he. "None can 
do this completely, and few can do it even partially. 

"Men find.it hard to re-think the thoughts of the 
child; still harder must they find it to re-think the 
thoughts of the savage. To look at things with the 
eyes of absolute ignorance implies a self-suppression 
that is impracticable. Nevertheless, we must here 
do our best to conceive of the surrounding world as 
it appeared to the primitive man, that we may be 
able the better to interpret the evidence available 
for our use." 

Guided by the more especial doctrine of mental 
evolution, we may help ourselves to delineate primi- 
tive ideas in some of their leading traits. It is only 
a few examples of these actions of the mind we 
can take up in a paper of this kind. 

"The sky, the sun, moon, stars and clouds appear 
and disappear, and show signs of alteration. 

"The earth's surface supplies various instances 
of the disappearance of things which have unac- 
countably appeared. Now the savage sees little 
pools of water formed by the rain-drops coming 
from a source he cannot reach, and now in a few 
hours the gathering liquid has made itself invisible. 
Here, again, is a fog; perhaps lying isolated in the 
hollows, perhaps enwrapping everything, which 
came awhile since and presently goes, without leav- 
ing a trace of its whereabouts. These and many 
other occurrences show transition between the vis- 
ible and the invisible." 

Once more let me ask, what must be the original 
conception of wind ? Into this seemingly empty 
space around there, from time to time, comes an 
invisible agent which bends the trees, drives along 
the leaves, disturbes the water, and which he feels 
moving his hair, fanning his cheek, and now and 



66 SUPERSTITIONS 

then pushing his body with a force he has some 
difficulty in overcoming. What may be the nature 
of this agent there is nothing to tell him; but one 
thing is irresistably thrust on his consciousness — 
that sounds can be made, things about him can be 
moved, and he himself can be buffeted by an exist- 
ence he can neither grasp or see. 

Significant of another order, from time to time 
discloses themselves to primitive man; for instance, 
the duality, or double nature, of things. Things 
have obviously two states of existence. What about 
his shadow ? By a child, a shadow is thought of as 
an entity. Williams says of a Fijian little girl of 
seven that "she did not know what a shadow was, 
and could not receive a conception of its true 
nature." Primitive man, with no one to answer 
his questions, and without ideas of physical causa- 
tion, necessarily concludes a shadow to be an actual 
existence, which belongs in some way to the person 
casting it. With primitive man, while shadows are 
conceived as belonging to material things, it is 
found they are capable of separation therefrom, as 
by darkness, for instance. We find it stated of the 
Benin negroes that they regard men's shadows as 
their souls. They are afraid of their shadows, as 
they think they watch all their actions. Among 
the Greenlanders, a man's shadow is one of his two 
souls — the one of which goes away from his body 
at night. Some Fijians speak of man as having 
two spirits. His shadow is called the dark spirit, 
which, they say, at death goes to Hades. The other 
is supposed to stay near the place where a man dies. 

Let any one ask himself what would be his 
thought if, in a state of child-like ignorance, he were 
to pass some spot and to hear repeated a shout 
which he uttered? Would he not inevitably con- 
clude that the answering shout came from another 
person? Succeeding shouts severally repeated with 



SUPERSTITIONS 67 

words and tones like his own, yet without visible 
source, would rouse the idea that this person was 
mocking him, and at the same time concealing him- 
self. Nothing approaching to the physical explana- 
tion of an echo can be framed by the uncivilized 
man. 

To identify the notions exemplified by primitive 
man, it will be necessary to consider the meaning" 
of much evidence furnished by men who have 
advanced beyond the savage state, advanced even 
to a high degree of civilization. 

As religion is made to include much superstition, 
I will cite a few cases of a religious character : 

An account is given of the casting- out of a devil 
from a boy named Michael Zilk by one Father 
Aurelia. The exortist accused a Protestant woman, 
Frau Herz, of having conjured the devil into the 
boy, and denounced her as a witch, and was 
prosecuted by the woman's husband for defamation. 
The trial resulted in the condemnation of the 
defendant. The case derives its chief interest from 
the testimony of two ecclesiastical experts, both of 
whom approved of Father Amelia's method. "That 
men may enter into a league with Satan," is said 
by one, "is affirmed both by the scriptures and the 
teachings of the Catholic church." As regards the 
boy, the Father was perfectly justified in assuming 
that he was possessed with a devil, since all the signs 
favored this presumption, such as sudden paroxysm, 
abnormal bodily strength, a strange dread of holy 
things, and demonical ecstacy. The demon becomes 
firmly fixed in the organism and uses it as a base 
of operations, causing the individual to curse and 
rage and foam, using his tongue to speak languages 
unknown .to him, endowing his muscles with pre- 
ternatural force. The Father believed that the dried 
pears which Frau Herz gave the boy had been 
the means of conveying the demonical infection. 



68 SUPERSTITIONS 

The boy doubtless had an epileptic fit, which was 
caused by the pears. 

That learned doctors of theology and high 
church dignitaries should be willing to appear before 
a court of justice at the present day with such expert 
testimony as this is a curious mental phenomenon, 
and a remarkablle instance of superstitious survival. 

A few examples may be cited to show to what 
extent the popular belief in witchcraft, demoniacal 
possession, and the efficacy of conjurations still 
prevails : 

In the spring of 1894, a Hungarian started on a 
bicycle from Bucharest with the intention of making 
a tour through the Balkan peninsula to Constanti- 
nople. He was overtaken by night, and stopped at 
at hovel which served as a public house, and after 
confiding his wheel to the care of the inn-keeper, 
who took charge of it with considerable distrust, 
went to bed. Very soon the news spread abroad 
that a sorcerer had arrived riding on a magic car 
drawn by invisible spirits, and a crowd of excited 
peasants filled the inn, under the direction of the 
priest, who sprinkled the bicycle with holy water 
and abjured the demon to depart. The magic car 
of the sorcerer was then taken out of doors and 
demolished. 

The results of such superstitious notions are not 
always so harmless. Thus a peasant living near 
Florence, in Tuscany, had a daughter who was sub- 
ject to severe hysterical convulsions. The parish 
priest intimated that the girl was probably possessed 
with a devil. One day the peasant and his daughter 
consulted a wise woman, famous for sorceries. The 
old witch began her conjurations dragging herself 
over the floor on her knees and howling fearfully. 
Finally she ceased, and declared that the conjura- 
tion had been successful. "Now, go home," she 
added, "and heat the oven. The first person who 



SUPERSTITIONS 69 

comes to your door will be the one who has caused 
your daughter's malady. Thrust this person into 
the oven in the presence of your daughter, and there 
will be no recurrence of the disease." Early the 
next morning there was a rap at the door, and a 
voice which said, "For heaven's sake, give me a 
piece of bread!" The peasant rushed to the door, 
seized the beggar woman, and, without a moment's 
hesitation, put her into the heated oven. Two milk- 
men passing by heard her cries, and rescued her. 

The measures recently devised to suppress a 
witch at Lupest, in Hungary, are the more note- 
worthy, because they emanated from the civil 
authorities. The death of an old woman who had 
the reputation of being in solemn covenant with the 
devil was the occasion of public rejoicing. In the 
midst of the festivities, it was announced a villager's 
cow had died suddenly, and under suspicious cir- 
cumstances. The common council, after an official 
investigation, reported that the cow had been 
bewitched by the deceased beldame, and in order to 
prevent her from doing further harm, commanded 
that a stallion should be brought and made to leap 
over her grave. The horse, however, showed signs 
of fright, and refused to jump; and this circum- 
stance greatly added to the public excitement. 
Finally, it was decreed by the council that the body 
of the witch should be exhumed and stabbed with 
red-hot pitchforks. This proceeding proved effect- 
ive, and the old hag ceased to trouble her former 
neighbors. 

In some districts of Dalmatia, it is still custom- 
ary to throw all the women in the water on a 
specified day to see whether they will sink or swim. 
A rope is attached to each one in order to save from 
drowning those who prove their innocence by sink- 
ing. The witches who float are also pulled out, and 



70 SUPERSTITIONS 

are made to promise to renounce the devil on pain 
of being stoned. 

One of the most characteristic exhibitions of 
religious folly and frenzy in our day is the proces- 
sion of Jumpers, which takes place yearly in Luxen- 
burg, and is popularly regarded as a sure cure for 
epilepsy and St. Vitus' dance and other maladies of 
men and beasts. This procession is one of the queer- 
est sights that have been witnessed in Christendom. 
The men, women and children who are to join in 
the choral dance (which might easily be mistaken 
for a Bacchanalian orgy) assembly on a meadow 
near the town, where they are arranged in rows or 
groups. At a given signal, the musicians strike up 
the lively tune known as "Willibrord's Dance," and 
the saltatory movement begins, the whole mass 
moving three or four steps forward and one or two 
steps backward, or four steps to the right and the 
same number to the left in a diagonal direction. 
From a distance, the bobbing and swaying throng 
resembles the swell and fall of a restless sea, or the 
bubling and boiling water in an immense caldron. 
In this manner the procession moves on for more 
than two hours, through the streets of the town and 
up the sixty-two steps leading to the parish church, 
where the dance is kept up for some time around the 
tomb of St. Willibrord. The dancers join hands, or 
more frequently hold together by means of a hand- 
kerchief, for the sake of greater freedom of motion. 
Here and there an old man may be seen dragging 
along an infirm son, who makes desperate attempts 
to leap with the rest ; or a stout woman gasping 
and sweating under the heavy burden of a paralytic 
daughter, whom she bears in her arms as she bounds 
to and fro. This reminds of Slatter's column of 
dupes. 

It is said that this custom arose from an epidemic 
of St. Vitus' dance which broke out in the neighbor- 



SUPERSTITIONS 71 

hood, that caused all the horses, cows, sheep and 
goats to dance in their stalls and to refuse to eat. 
The people made a vow to dance around the grave 
of St. Willibrord, and no sooner was this vow ful- 
filled than the plague ceased. So says Professor E. 
P. Evans. 

Some non-religious modern superstitions : A 
great many believe that just as surely as the fox, 
American, English or German, beheld his shadow 
on the second day of February, and, beholding it, 
shrank back to his hole, so surely would all foxes, 
and the rest of us, see two winters in one year. We 
of America have changed this to the ground hog, 
and claim if he sees his shadow, he retires for six 
weeks longer — anyway, the second day of February, 
it seems, controls the weather for a time. 

And who has not heard of carrying a potato or 
horse-chestnut to ward off Rheumatism? Many 
mothers believe that the flannel band worn about 
the neck to cure an inflamed throat must be red, 
as that color corresponds to the color of the malady. 
In like manner the carrot is held in esteem in the 
cure of Jaundice, yellow being the characteristic 
color of both. The carrot is suspended in- the room 
occupied by the sufferer, and as the root shrivels 
and dries up, the affection is removed. Seven drops 
of blood from a cat's tail is an ancient remedy for 
a sufferer with Epilepsy. 

Many persons dread going on a journey or 
cutting out a garment on Friday. This reminds us 
that Dr. Simms, a New York surgeon, celebrated 
for his success, used to choose Friday for his opera- 
tions, as he could on that day get plenty of assist- 
ance, for others preferred not to operate on that day. 

The dread and wonder excited by the phenomena 
of the elements, or the discovery of anything 
unusual, either animate or inanimate, suggests to 



72 SUPERSTITIONS 

the mind the existence and manifestation of Dieties. 
The storm is caused by a monster bird, the move- 
ments of whose wings produce the winds, and whose 
voice is heard in muttering thunder. Even among 
civilized peoples, the soil of the mind is prolific in 
the cultivation of morbid fancies. It is not surpris- 
ing, then, at this late day that the folk-lore and 
superstitions of one part of the country may have 
been transported into another, and there take root 
and become incorporated as original. We are 
familiar with the custom of having eggs served at 
Easter breakfast, and also that of children receiving 
presents of dyed eggs; sometimes toy rabbits or 
hares, made of soft, fluffy goods and stuffed with 
cotton or sawdust, were also given as presents. 
Children were told that the hare laid the eggs, and 
nests were prepared for the hare to lay them in. 
The custom obtains as well in south Germany, 
where the people are noted for attachment to 
ancestral customs. I may say, before Christ the 
Egyptians dyed ostrich eggs. 

The practice of nailing a horseshoe against the 
lintel of a door is familiar to almost everybody, and 
it is thought particularly efficacious in warding off 
bad luck, if the shoe be one that was found upon the 
highway. This custom obtains more especially 
among the negroes. 

Beliefs and superstitions relating to snakes are 
exceedingly common. A very common belief is to 
the effect that if one kills the first snake met with 
in the spring, no others will be observed during the 
remainder of the year. Occasionally we hear of 
black snakes found in pastures, where they suckle 
cows, so that these animals daily resort to certain 
localities to secure relief from a painful abundance 
of milk. As an illustration of the belief in the trans- 
formation of human beings into serpents, I will 
relate a circumstance said to have occurred during 



SUPERSTITIONS 73 

the first part of the present century. So says W. J. 
Hoffman : 

"Near Trexlertown, Lehigh county, Pennsyl- 
vania, dwelt a farmer named Weiler. His wife and 
three daughters had, by some means or other, 
incurred the enmity of a witch, who lived but a short 
distance away, when the latter, it is supposed, took 
her revenge in the following manner : Whenever 
visitors came to the Weiler residence, the girls, with- 
out any premonition whatever, would suddenly be 
changed into snakes, and after crawling back and 
forth along the top ridge of the wainscoating for 
several minutes, they were restored to their natural 
form." 

Another popular fallacy is the existence of the 
hoop snake. This creature is usually reported as 
capable of grasping the tip of its tail with its mouth 
and, like a hoop, running swiftly along in pursuit 
of an unwelcome intruder. This snake is believed, 
furthermore, to have upon its tail a short, poisonous 
horn, and that if it should strike any living creature, 
death would result. Even if it should strike a tree, 
it will wither and die. 

The rattle of a snake, if tied to a string and 
suspended from the neck of a child, will serve to 
prevent convulsions; if carried by an adult, it will 
guard against Rheumatism ; and the oil is employed 
as a remedy for deafness. 

Another curious superstition, held by young 
men, is that if one places a snake's tongue upon the 
palm of his hand, beneath the glove, it will cause 
any girl, regardless of her previous indifference, to 
ardently return his passion, if he be enabled but 
once to take her hand within his own. 

There are numerous methods of treating snake 
bites, from the internal use of liquors to the applica- 
tion of a snake or mad stone. The application of 
this remedy gradually led to its employment in the 



74 SUPBRSTITIONS 

bite of mad dogs. The prescription for the so-called 
mad stone is generally as follows : Place it against 
the wound until it becomes saturated with the poison, 
when it will, of its own accord, fall off. Then boil 
it in milk to remove the poison, and repeat the 
application until the stone refuses to adhere. 

"A short time since, I examined a celebrated 
North Carolina mad stone, one that had widespread 
reputation," so says Dr. Hoffman. "This stone was 
of the size and form of an ordinary horse-chestnut, 
white in color, and consisted of feldspar, a hard 
mineral, usually found in granite. It possesses no 
absorbent properties whatever, and its reputed 
ability to extract poison, or any other liquid, was 
utterly unworthy of a second thought." 

To illustrate the esteem in which these substances 
are held, I will only add that, in 1879, a mad stone 
was sold to a druggist in Texas for $250. The 
specimen was said to have been found in the stom- 
ach of a deer. 

We are all aware of the frequency with which 
the divining rod is used in the search for water. 

SUPERSTITION IN NEW YORK 

"In New York, the most modern of all large 
cities, superstition thrives, gray with countless cen- 
turies of age," so says Mr. Robert Shackleton. 
"When the night wind wails through the gorge-like 
streets of the great East Side, thousands tremble, 
for the restless cry is from the souls of children 
unbaptized." 

Attention was drawn two years ago to a woman 
in Ridge street, who had many clients, and whose 
specialty was the bringing together of married folk 
who had drifted apart. She charged $20 to each 
who invoked her aid, and for that sum she exorcised 
the evil spirit, through whose malignancy the 
separation had come. 



SUPERSTITIONS 75 

One is taught how to discover a witch and how 
to banish her, and also some remedies against 
disease. There is the cure of toothache, for instance : 
One is told to take a new, but useless, nail, pick the 
teeth with it, then drive the nail into a rafter, toward 
the rising sun, where no sun or moon shines, and 
speak at the first stroke, "Toothache, vanish !" on 
the second, "Toothache, banish !" on the third 
stroke, "Toothache, thither fly!" 

If one would be secure against the shot of a gun, 
the following is infallible: "O, Josophat! O, 
Tomorath ! O, Posorath !" These words are to be 
pronounced backwards three times. 

Have you the stomach ache? Kiss a mule and 
the ache will vanish while you are showing your 
affection for the dumb animal. 

It would be a mistake to think the superstitions 
of New York obtain among the ignorant only. The 
rich and well-to-do dread thirteen at table — the 
result of a superstition which goes back to the 
"Last Supper," where one was a traitor. Many, in 
moving, will not carry away a broom. 

Many count it unlucky to take the family cat 
with them to the new home. There is a Wall Street 
broker who must have his right cheek shaved first, 
and the initial stroke must be upward. A certain 
horse-owner is confident of success if, on the morn- 
ing of a race day, he accidentally meets a cross-eyed 
man. 

Thus we perceive that the mere reference to the 
trifles which are apt to control our actions brings 
to our minds such a startling array of superstitions 
observed by us in others, or perhaps entertained by 
ourselves, that it becomes impractical to continue 
further so prolific a subject at this time. 



Dreaming 

As dreaming takes place while we are sleeping, 
it is desirable to say a few words concerning sleep. 
Sleep is not a constant, but a fluctuating quantity. 
There are degrees of sleep, so many intermediate 
steps between it and waking; wherefore we may, 
rightly, be said to graduate through a twilight- 
waking into imperfect sleep, and from light slumber 
into profound unconsciousness. It is hard to say 
sometimes whether we have been asleep or not, for 
the wanderings of grotesque ideas are so like dreams 
that we know not at times whether they were a part 
of our Waking or of our sleeping life. 

In the production of insensibility by the inhala- 
tion of chloroform, we observe evidence that the 
person hears after he can no longer see, and that 
the senses of taste and smell are lost before those of 
hearing and touch ; and in natural sleep it is obvious 
that there are similar graduations of unconscious- 
ness, one sense being sometimes more deeply asleep 
than another. In like manner, when we awake, it 
seldom happens that all our senses awake at the 
same instant; indeed, they appear commonly to 
wake successively. It ought not to appear strange, 
then, that in some dreams active imagination is 
exhibited and skillful bodily feats performed — a 
proof that some mental and motor centers are awake 
while others are asleep. It has been a disputed ques- 
tion whether sleep is ever quite dreamless, and 
opposite answers to it have been propounded. Some 
writers hold that no state of sleep, however sound 

76 



DREAMING 77 

it is, is without dreaming, being infected in some 
degree by the Cartesian dogma that the mind never 
can be entirely inactive. Another theory which has 
been broached with regard to dreaming is that we 
only dream just as we are going to sleep, or just 
as we are coming out of it — in the transition state 
into and out of sleep. But this opinion seems, on 
examination, to be less tenable than the opinion that 
we never cease to dream when we are asleep. 

"The weight of evidence," so says Maudsley, 
"in a case which, by the nature of things, cannot be 
decided, I believe to be on the side of the opinion 
that the soundest sleep is a dreamless sleep." This 
opinion is confirmed by cases of suspended anima- 
tion, as, for instance, when a person is taken out 
of the water in a completely unconscious state, and 
revives only after energetic efforts at restoration 
continued for an hour, or even for hours, it is as 
certain as anything can well be that all mental 
function was abolished from the moment he became 
insensible unto the moment when sensibility 
returned. 

Take, again, the remarkable case of a blow on 
the head, producing depression of the skull, pressure 
upon the brain therefrom, and insensibility there- 
with, with the raising of the depressed bone by 
surgical means. The person has not only regained 
consciousness instantly, but has gone on to finish a 
sentence begun when he was struck down uncon- 
scious. In cases of this kind, there is not the least 
reason to suspect that there is any mental function 
going on. 

While this may all be true, it does not confirm 
the theory of the entire absence of all mental activity 
in the natural brain during sleep, as these were 
abnormal conditions; at the same time I am 
inclined to the opinion of Maudsley, that in sound 
sleep mental activity entirely ceases. Others, how- 



78 DREAMING 

ever, take a different view of the matter. It should 
be remembered that dreams are readily forgotten. 
One may say he has not dreamed at all, when it is 
evident he has, both from the expression of his 
countenance during sleep, as observed by others, 
and words spoken ; for lightly sleeping persons will 
answer questions cautiously put to them; in fact, a 
conversation may be carefully carried on with a sleep- 
ing person, who, when he awakes, will remember 
nothing of it. We know that while the body is 
awake, the mind is always active. Does this activ- 
ity entirely cease during the period of sleep? The 
phenomena of certain varieties of trance indicate 
that the mere semblance of death is not incompatible 
with great mental activity. In like manner, the 
phenomena of dreams serve to prove that various 
intellectual processes, such as memory, imagination, 
attention, emotion, and even volition, may still be 
exercised while every external special sense is closed 
by sleep. The result of the exercise of mental activ- 
ity under such conditions constitutes a dream. 

The fact that observers who have made trial 
in their own persons have always found themselves 
engaged with the details of a dream when suddenly 
awakened from deep sleep has been supposed to 
afford valuable proof of the proposition that the 
mind is never wholly inactive during the deepest 
sleep. To say nothing of the significance of certain 
somnambulic states, in which intelligence evidently 
exists for a long period of time, without leaving 
any subsequent trace in memory, the mere fact that 
we remember very few of the events that occupy the 
mind in dreams cannot be urged against the doctrine 
of continuous mental action, for we remember very 
few of the images and ideas that have stirred the 
depths of consciousness during the waking state. 
Our recollection of dreams is exceedingly variable. 
Sometimes we retain in memory all the events of a 



DREAMING 79 

long and complicated vision, but usually, though 
entranced by the vivid beauty of the spectacle that 
unrolls its splendor before the eye of the mind in 
sleep, and though the intensity of its seeming action 
may be sufficient to awaken the dreamer, who recalls 
each incident as he reviews the picture during the 
first waking moments, the impression soon fades, 
and the coming day finds him incapable of reproduc- 
ing a single scene from the nocturnal drama. 

Men little consider how mechanical they are in 
their thoughts, feelings and doings. So fully pos- 
sessed are they with the fixed, but erroneous, notion 
that consciousness is the essential agent in all the 
purposive things which they do that they stand 
amazed when they witness any evidence of intelli- 
gent action during the abeyance of consciousness, as 
in sleep, and look upon it as marvelous, because they 
were not lit up by consciousness. The mere fact that 
we were not conscious of dreaming is no evidence 
that we did not dream. How much of our thinking 
and feeling goes on when we are awake of which 
we are unconscious? It seems, in fact, that only a 
minimum of our thoughts and feelings affect our 
consciousness. When our thoughts attain a certain 
intensity, we do become conscious of them, and then 
it is only for an instant, when they subside below 
consciousness again, but the process of unconscious 
thinking goes on. This kind of thinking constitutes 
a large part of our thinking lives. Hour after hour 
of this kind of drifting, or reverie, passes on, and it 
is only occasionally that we ask ourselves where we 
are at, then relapse again into unconscious drifting. 

If this takes place while we are awake, why may 
it not take place when we are asleep? The fact 
that we are not conscious of dreaming is no argu- 
ment that we are not, or that our minds are not, 
active, however soundly we may be sleeping. Very 
much of our mental activity takes place below the 



80 DREAMING 

level of consciousness, whether awake or sleeping. 
Accurate and logical thinking or reasoning does not 
need the cognizance or aid of consciousness. As 
thinking and reasoning are done by the aid of certain 
laws of association of ideas, of which consciousness 
gives no testimony, consciousness, in fact, may inter- 
fere with these processes by distracting the mind. 
Example : If we have forgotten some lines of a 
poem and set to work consciously to recall them, we 
are likely not to succeed, whereas if we give over our 
minds to unconscious efforts, we are more likely to 
have them hunted up for us ; for consciousness does 
not govern our lines of thought. They are controlled 
by other agencies. Why, then, should it be consid- 
ered a strange thing that the courses of our dreams 
should proceed without such agencies? They do 
proceed with only imperfect control of the associa- 
tion of ideas, or any control imposed through the aid 
of consciousness, and with only imperfect control of 
the will, and these are the reasons why they proceed 
in a strangely incongruous way. 

A certain amount of volition, or will power, is 
supposed to go along with dreams, but it is insuffi- 
cient to control the course of our trains of thought. 
Neither is the influence of the laws of association of 
ideas, which, as Maudsley says, is only another 
phrase for the force of habits of thinking. There is 
not an entire suspension of volitional control over 
the current of thought, but only an imperfect suspen- 
sion. 

"I have been brought, on two or three occasions, 
to the very verge of being hanged in my dreams," 
says Maudsley, "having waked up at the last moment 
before the operation was to be performed, and on 
each occasion I have been conscious of a determined 
suppression of any betrayal of fear." 



DREAMING 81 

CHARACTER OF OUR DREAMS 

"Our dreams are as variable as the clouds that 
drift upon the currents of the air, as on a hot day 
in summer," so says Henry M. Lyman, "when the 
steady equatorial draught has ceased to guide the 
wind, we may observe all manner of local tides in 
the masses of vapor which arise from the earth; so 
in sleep, when the quieting influence of the senses 
is withdrawn from the brain, the ideas that still arise 
are chiefly dependant on the habitual and reflex 
action for their origin and association. Undis- 
turbed by impulses from the external world, the 
brain seems then more sensitive to impressions that 
originate within the body." 

An overloaded stomach, an enfeebled heart, or 
an irritable, nervous ganganglion may become the 
source of irregular and uncompensated movements 
which may invade the brain, and there set in motion 
a whole battery of mechanisms whose influence upon 
consciousness would be quite unnoticed were the 
external senses in full operation. 

"It has been well remarked," so says Carpenter, 
"that nothing surprises us in dreams. All probabili- 
ties of time, place and circumstances, are violated; 
the dead pass before us as if alive and well ; even 
the sages of antiquity hold personal converse with 
us ; our friends upon the antipodes are brought upon 
the scene, or we ourselves are conveyed thither, with- 
out the least perception of the intervening distance; 
and occurrences, such as in our waking state would 
excite the strongest emotions, may be contemplated 
without the slightest feeling of a painful or pleasur- 
able nature. Facts and events long since forgotten 
in the waking state and remaining only as latent 
impressions in the brain, present themselves to the 
mind of the dreamer; and many instances have 
occurred in which the subsequent retention of the 



82 DREAMING 

knowledge thus re-acquired has led to most import- 
ant results." 

Thus Candorcet saw in his dreams the final steps 
of a difficult calculation which had puzzled him dur- 
ing the day; and Condillac tells us that when 
engaged in his studies, he frequently developed and 
finished a subject in his dreams which he had broken 
off before retiring to rest. 

RAPIDITY OF DREAMING 

One of the most remarkable of all the peculiari- 
ties in the state of dreaming is the rapidity with 
which trains of thought pass through the mind, for 
a dream in which a long series of events has seemed 
to occur and a multitude of images has been suc- 
cessively raised up — in fact, a tragedy or comedy of 
several acts is devised and performed in a moment or 
a few seconds — although whole years may seem to 
have elapsed. "He assists, happy or distressed, 
applauding or condemning, at a spectacle which is 
all his own creation, and has not the will or the 
power to modify its course to any great extent." 
There would not appear, in truth, to be any limit to 
the amount of thought which may thus pass through 
the mind of the dreamer in an interval so brief as to 
be scarcely capable of measurement; as is obvious 
from the fact that a dream involving a long succes- 
sion of supposed events lias often distinctly origi- 
nated in a sound which has also awoke the sleeper, 
so that the whole must have passed during the almost 
inappreciable period of transition between the previ- 
ous state of sleep and the full waking consciousness. 

CONSCIOUSNESS THAT WE ARE DREAMING 

There may be a distinct feeling that we are 
dreaming. We may say to ourselves, "It is only a 
dream," and we may doubt the reality of the images 
which flit before the mental vision. If this feeling 



DREAMING 83 

becomes stronger, it probably will awaken us. Yet 
we may make a voluntary and successful effort to 
prolong them, if agreeable, or to dissipate them, if 
unpleasing, thus evincing the possession of a certain 
degree of that directing" power, the entire want of 
which is the characteristic of the true state of 
dreaming. 

LOSS OF IDENTITY 

It is impossible there can be full use of reflection 
when most of the habitual trains of thought are sus- 
pended in sleep. For this reason the sense of per- 
sonal identity, the unity of individual character, is 
confused and seemingly lost. We are ourselves and 
somebody else at the same moment, as 'other persons 
seem to be themselves and not themselves, and we do 
absurd and perhaps transcendently criminal things in 
the most matter-of-fact way, all the while mildly 
surprised, or not at all surprised, at ourselves for 
doing them. For the absence of surprise at the 
extraordinary events which take place in dreams is 
sometimes very remarkable. But it is not always com- 
plete. In some instances there is only a partial sur- 
prise. It is probable that when we begin in our 
dreams to be surprised at the change of identity, and 
to think about it as odd, we are on the point of 
waking - . 

But it seems that throughout all the vagueness of 
dreaming there is generally at bottom an obscure 
feeling or instinct of identity, or else we should not 
ever be surprised at ourselves when we seem to be 
not ourselves. 

The reason I believe to be that the body preserves 
its identity, notwithstanding that our conscious func- 
tions are in the greatest distractions. Yet our differ- 
ent impressions, organic or systemic, are carried to 
the brain from the internal organs, and it is this 
physiological unity of organic or bodily functions, 



84 DREAMING 

which is something deeper than consciousness, and 
constitutes our fundamental personality, that makes 
itself felt with more or less force in every conscious 
state, dreaming or waking. There is philosophy in 
this because it indicates that all the organs of the 
body are connected directly with the brain and indi- 
rectly with each other, and that our sense of identity 
or unity grows out of this nervous connection. 

It is sometimes said that in dreaming there is 
loss of the faculty of combining and arranging ideas. 
True it is, that there is usually a loss of the faculty 
of combining and arranging them as we do when we 
are awake ; but one of the most remarkable features 
of dreaming is the singular power of combining and 
arranging ideas into the most vivid dramas. The 
same sort of thing occurs in the waking state, when 
the succession of thoughts is not controlled by reflec- 
tion upon some definite subject, and it constitutes 
the chief part of the mental activity of a great num- 
ber of persons who spend their time in vacant reverie 
or in rambling incongruities of ideas. Were a faith- 
ful record kept of the fantastical play of ideas under 
these circumstances, it would often read as wild as 
any dream. The point, however, which I desire to 
lay stress upon and to fix attention to here is the 
tendency of ideas, however unrelated, to come 
together and to form some sort of mental imagery, 
wildly absurd or more or less conformable to nature 
— the actual constructive power which they evince — 
for it plainly indicates that the plastic power of 
mind — its so-called imagination — is at bottom func- 
tion of the supreme brain centers — something which, 
being displayed when will is in abeyance and con- 
sciousness a mere gleam whenever there is the least 
display of brain mental function, must plainly lie 
beneath consciousness and beneath will. It is, if 
you please, unconscious mental function. 

"He who makes it a rule throusrh life to take 



DREAMING 85 

care that what he puts away in his mind and accumu- 
lates (for there is a singular power in the dreamer 
of recollection, of which he has not the least remem- 
berance in the waking state — he can lay under con- 
tribution the long unused stories of memory and 
reproduce them with a surprising vividness and 
accuracy — there is not, in fact, a corner in the brain 
in which there is a memory registered that may not 
rise into unwonted activity and remarkable vividness 
in the dreams, so that he who takes care what he 
stores up) is a treasure of pure and good materials 
will do much toward making the dreams that will 
haunt his sleep in the later years of life not only 
tolerable, but, as far as night thoughts can subserve 
any useful or beneficial purpose, will improve his 
time well and will be rewarded later in this life for 
being good in his earlier years." 

Herbert Spencer, an eminent philosopher, was 
of the opinion that, in primitive man, ideas about 
spirits and an after life arose from dreams. Says 
he: "A conception which is made so familiar to us, 
during education, that we mistake it for an original 
and necessary one is the conception of mind, as an 
internal existence distinct from body. Yet, if we 
ask what is given in experience to the untaught 
human being, we find that there is nothing to tell 
him of any such existence. But until there is a con- 
ception as an internal principle of activity, there can 
be no such conception of dreams as we have." 

The sleeper, on awaking, recalls various occur- 
rences, and repeats them to others. He thinks he 
has been elsewhere ; witnesses say he has not ; and 
their testimony is verified by finding himself where 
he was when he went to sleep. The simple course is 
to believe both that he has remained and that he has 
been away ; that he has two individualities — one of 
which leaves the other and presently comes back. 
He, too, has a double existence. The North Ameri- 



86 DREAMING 

can Indians think there are duplicate souls, one of 
which remains with the body, while the other is free 
to depart on excursions during sleep. The theory 
in New Zealand is that during sleep the mind leaves 
the body and that dreams are the objects seen during 
its wanderings. Among the Hill-tribes of India, 
the same doctrine is held, their statement being that 
in sleep it (the spirit) wanders away to the ends of 
the earth, and our dreams are what it experiences in 
its perambulations. The Sandwich Islanders say the 
departed member of a family appears to the sur- 
vivors sometimes in a dream. In East Africa they 
believe the spirits of the dead appear to the living in 
dreams. The Zulus believe that the persons who 
appear in dreams are real. Enough has been said 
to show that dream experiences are the experiences 
out of which the conception of a mental self event- 
ually grows. 

One of the experiences suggesting another life 
is the appearance of the dead in dreams. Manifestly 
the dead person recognized in dreams must be per- 
sons who were known to the dreamers. Savages 
who like the Mangamjas expressly ground their 
belief in a future life on the fact that their friends 
visit them in their sleep. 






Moral Insanity 



The word insanity is repulsive, yet the study of 
the different forms of that disorder throws great 
light upon the normal workings of the mind. But 
to understand its abnormal workings, it is necessary 
to have considerable knowledge of its normal func- 
tions, greater than most persons possess. To under- 
stand moral insanity, however, such knowledge is 
not essential ; the knowledge necessary is that of 
good and evil ; hence moral insanity is a much more 
suitable subject for a popular lecture. Although, 
when moral insanity is fully developed, it consti- 
tutes man a monster. 

Moral insanity is a term frequently used to 
denote vicious or criminal instincts in a person who 
is mentally little defective. The term was originated 
nearly half a century ago by an Englishman, Dr. 
Prichard, who declared that insanity exists some- 
times with an apparently unimpaired state of the 
intellectual faculties; and the conception has been 
developed by many of the best observers of mental 
diseases. There is, however, a tendency to drop 
the expression "moral insanity," and to speak instead 
of "moral imbecility." 

The condition in question is described by alienists 
as an incapacity to feel or to act in accordance with 
the moral conditions of social life. Such persons, it 
is said, are morally blind; the mental retina has 
become benumbed. The moral imbecile is indiffer- 
ent to the misfortunes of others and to the opinions 
of others. Although defective on the moral side, 

87 



88 MORAL INSANITY 

these persons are well able to make use of the 
intellectual conceptions of honor, morality, and 
philanthropy. Such words are frequently on their 
lips, and it is quite impossible to convince them of 
the unusual character of their own acts. They are 
absolutely and congenitally incapable of social educa- 
tion, systematically hostile to every moralizing influ- 
ence. Being themselves morally blind, it is their 
firm conviction that all others are in the same 
condition. 

It is obvious that these symptoms closely resem- 
ble those described as characterizing the criminal in 
his most clearly marked form — the instinctive crimi- 
nal. There can be little doubt that the two groups 
overlap in a very large degree. 

A couple of cases will help to throw light upon 
the subject: 

"A single lady of forty-five was of good social 
position, yet her appearance was anything but attrac- 
tive. She was withered, sallow, blear-eyed, with an 
eminently unsteady and untrustworthy eye. So 
improper and immoral was her conduct that she was 
obliged to live apart from her family in lodgings, for 
she seemed incapable, in certain regards, of any con- 
trol over her propensities. No appeal was of any 
avail to induce her to alter her mode of life. She 
was prone to burn little articles, impulsively throw- 
ing them in the fire, saying that she could not help 
it, and then cutting and pricking her own flesh by 
way of penance. 

"When reasoned or remonstrated with about her 
foolish tricks, she professed to feel them to be very 
absurd, expressed great regret, and talked with 
exceeding plausibility about them, as though she was 
not responsible for them. It was of no use whatever 
speaking earnestly with her, since she admitted her 
folly, and spoke of it with the resigned air of an 



MORAL INSANITY 89 

innocent victim. Her habits were unwomanly and 
offensive." 

Coulston reports the case of a lady who, by a 
series of extraordinary misrepresentations and clever 
impostures, raised large sums of money on no secur- 
ity whatever, and spent them as recklessly ; imposed 
on jewelers so that they trusted her with goods 
worth hundreds of pounds ; furnished grand houses 
at the expense of trusting upholsterers; introduced 
herself by open impudence to one great nobleman 
after another, and then introduced her dupes, who, 
on the faith of these distinguished social connections, 
at once disgorged money. To one person she was 
a great literary character, to another of royal 
descent, to another she had immense expectations, to 
another she was a stern religionist. At last all this 
lying, cheating, scheming and imposture developed 
into marked brain disease, and finally the cause of 
her boldness, cunning and mendacity become evi- 
dent. 

This case reminds us of Mrs. Cassie Chadwick, 
concerning whose form of suspected moral insanity 
we shall have to wait further developments. 

It is quite certain that these women so lost to 
all sense of the obligations and responsibilities of 
their positions could not restrain their immoral 
extravagances and vicious acts for any length of 
time. They knew quite well the difference between 
right and wrong, but no motive could be roused in 
their minds to induce them to pursue the right and 
eschew the wrong. Their conduct revealed the 
tyranny of a vicious organization whose natural 
affinities were evilwards. Naturally, therefore, such 
patients feel no shame, regret, nor remorse, for their 
conduct, however flagrant, unbecoming and immoral 
it may be, — never think that they are to blame, and 
consider themselves ill-treated by their relatives 
when they are interfered with. They cannot be fitted 



90 MORAL INSANITY 

for social intercourse. Friends may remonstrate, 
entreat and blame, and punishment may be allowed 
to take its course, but in the end both friends and 
all who know them recognize the hopelessness of 
improvement, and acknowledge that they must be 
placed under control. 

I will now give the history of a more decisive 
and significant example of this same moral insensi- 
bility : 

"It was in a child — a school girl, twelve years 
of age. At her trial, there was not the slightest 
emotion or deep excitement. When questions were 
put to her of a very serious character, she remained 
self-possessed, lucid and childlike. Said she : 'My 
mother has several times whipped me for naughti- 
ness, and it is right that I should take away the stick 
with which she beat me, and to beat her.' 

" 'Sometime,' to use her own language, 'in 
playing in the yard, I came behind a child, held his 
eyes, and asked him who I was. I pressed my 
thumbs deeply in his eyes, so that he cried out and 
had inflamed eyes. I knew that I hurt him, and. in 
spite of his crying, I did not let go until I was made 
to. When I was a little child I have stuck forks in 
the eyes of rabbits, and afterwards slit open their 
bodies. 

" 'In going on an errand, I met little Margarette 
Detrich, who was three years old. I had known her 
a few months. I wanted to take away her earrings. 
I went with her up the stairs to the second floor, to 
take them from her, and then to throw her out of 
the window. I wanted to kill her because I was 
afraid she would betray me. I opened the window 
and put the child on the ledge, with her feet hanging 
out and her face turned away from me. I took the 
earrings and put them in my pocket. Then I gave 
the child a shove, and heard her strike the lamp, and 
then the basement. I was not sorry. I was not 



MORAL INSANITY 91 

sorry all the time I was in prison. I am not sorry 
now.' " 

This was a case of well-marked moral insanity. 
In this case, the child's father was not known to the 
physicians, and no taint of insanity was found ; but 
in a host of other cases of like nature, insanity was 
known to have been present in the ancestors. Moral 
insanity is pre-eminently hereditary. Good qualities 
are well known to be so. 

Darwin says, "if a variation is an advantage to 
an animal in the struggle for life, it is transmitted 
by hereditary;" and there is every reason to believe 
that bad characteristics are so transmitted also. 

The general belief of pathologists is that very 
many diseases are, to-wit: Syphilis and Consump- 
tion. The wisest of philosophers, such as Herbert 
Spencer and Darwin, and pathologists and special- 
ists in nervous diseases such as Maudsley, Lombroso, 
and almost all neurologists, are firmly convinced that 
most nervous diseases are so transmitted. This is 
true of insanity in most forms, but more especially 
of moral insanity. 

The following account of moral imbecility was 
of a child : 

"My first experience of Alice," so says the 
writer, "was when she was four and a half years 
old. Her infancy was tenderly cared for, not only 
by her father, but by his mother. I had great diffi- 
culty in teaching her to read and count. It was at 
this time I became impressed with the feeling that 
she was not as other children. Coaxing and punish- 
ment were alike unavailing. 

"At five and a half years old, she was sent to a 
good school, where she now is. Her mental progress 
has surprised me, especially in certain branches of 
study, but her moral nature remains entirely as 
before. There seems to be no appreciation of the 
nature of truth in her, no sorrow for naughtiness, 



92 MURAL INSANITY 

no wish or pleasure to be good, but a great acuteness 
in slyly persisting in what she has been told not to 
do. There appear to be times when she is indelicate 
in her person, dirty in her habits, and generally 
inclined to be vicious. She is rarely, if ever, pas- 
sionate, but will walk quietly up to a brother or sis- 
ter and either slap or knock them down without any 
provocation. She does things which show a distress- 
ing want of moral susceptibility. " 

Her maternal uncle is in an asylum on account 
of similar deficiencies. 

The power of hereditary influence in determining 
an individual's nature has been more or less dis- 
tinctly recognized in all ages. Solomon proclaimed 
it to be the special merit of a good man that he 
leaves an inheritance to his children. On the other 
hand, it has been declared that the sins of the father 
shall be visited upon the children unto the third and 
fourth generations. We know, also, the story in 
"Aristotle" of the man who, when his son dragged 
him by his hair to the door, exclaimed : ''Enough, 
my son ! I did not drag my father beyond this." 
And Plutarch puts the doctrine of heredity in a shape 
that is both ancient and modern : ''That which is 
engendered is made of the very substance of the 
generating being, so that he bears in him something 
which is very justly punished or recompensed fol- 
ium, 

OVERCOMING ADVERSE HEREDITY 

Among the heroes of the world, none have done 
better work for mankind than those who have turned 
evil heredity into good heredity. Happy is his lot 
who has had good ancestors. What a true man 
would wish his children to become, that he will be 
for the sake of his children. 

"I cannot resist this evil." So said a young man 
to Mr. Butterworth. 



MORAL INSANITY 93 

"You are about to marry," said he. "Would 
you have your children slaves to the passion which 
holds you?" 

"No, never;" said he. "I must overcome — I will 
overcome ! How could I ever look into a cradle and 
feel that my child was a slave?" 

It is a principle of moral evolution that anyone 
can overcome evil, if he have a sufficient motive. 
This is true if he be a normal individual. 

Bolingbroke left his dissipation when the vision 
of the crown rose before him. Shakespeare thus 
pictures the altered life of Henry V : 
"The breath no sooner left his father's body 
But that his wildness, mortified in him, 
Seemed to die, too. Yea, at that very moment, 
Consideration, like an angel, came 
And whipped the offending Adam out of him." 

He who destroys an evil in his own nature gives 
a good influence to all time. He who reverses 
heredity is a benefactor of generations. And he is 
indeed a celestial knight who changes the currents 
of evil heredity into streams of good. He is indeed 
fortunate if he has the ability to do so. But suppose 
he has not ; that he is defective morally, and has 
not the power in himself and has not the power to 
take an education. 

Undoubtedly education has an important bearing 
where they have the ability to receive it. And yet, 
in some cases, education merely puts a weapon into 
the hands of the anti-social, such as are those in 
question. The only education that can avail any- 
thing must be education in the true sense — an edu- 
cation that is as much physical and moral as intel- 
lectual, an education that enables him who has to 
play a fair part in social life. 

All education must include provision for the 
detection and special treatment of abnormal children. 
And yet they are marked specially by their marked 



94 MORAL INSANITY 

resistance to educative influences. However, it 
must not be forgotten that, to a large extent, the 
child is moulded before birth. It must always make 
a great difference whether a man is well born and 
starts happily, or whether he is heavily handicapped 
at the very outset of life. 

We have great faith in the efficacy on the normal 
individual of training mind and body in producing 
a systematizing of thoughts, feelings and move- 
ments, and hence in the development of moral 
character. 

Next in importance to the inborn nature is the 
acquired nature, which a person owes to his educa- 
tion and training, not alone to the education which 
is called learning, but to the development of char- 
acter which has been evoked by the conditions of 
life. 

There is no doubt that the knowledge of the 
reign of law in nature does guide our impulses to 
wiser and, therefore, better action ; that good action 
promotes in time corresponding moral development 
of character. Training of the muscle has a similar 
effect, especially the muscles of the hands and fore- 
arms and legs. It has influence upon the mind 
centers which lie in close proximity in the brain to 
the motor centers. Hence the great popularity of 
rowing and gymnastic games at schools; the pro- 
fessors endorsing them for the reason that those 
who stand high at' these sports generally stand high 
in their studies. 

The favorable influences of drilling are seen on 
the mind and morals of the prisoners at Elmira, 
New York. At the same time, the peculiarity about 
the morally insane is that they are little susceptible 
to moral training. They may be susceptible to a 
fair degree of intellectual culture, such as in the 
study of mathematics, the languages, philosophy, 
etc. Thev mav make some considerable advance in 



MORAL INSANITY 95 

these branches, which is all right, for in some cases 
it affects considerably the mind. After all that can 
be said, an individual's nature will assimulate — that 
is, it will make of the same kind with itself that 
which is akin to its nature. And the cases we have 
cited show what little effect advice, coaxing, and 
even punishment, had upon those who were morally 
defective. 

I will quote a case bearing upon the point. It 
is that of a soldier, and is as follows : 

"He had been a lieutenant in a volunteer regi- 
ment, and I," so says his superintendent, "gave him 
rather more privileges on that account; but after a 
time I found that he was more nearly an example 
of total depravity than I had ever seen. There was 
no truth in him, and he was intelligent enough to 
make his lies seem plausible to me, as well as to 
others. By his writing and talking and conduct gen- 
erally he kept the patients and their friends in a 
ferment, and gave me more trouble than the whole 
hospital besides. 

"He had a small scar about the middle of his 
forehead, which he said was due to a slight flesh 
wound from a glancing ball in battle. While he was 
under my care, an older brother came to see him, 
and he told me that up to the time his brother (my 
patient who so tried my patience) entered the army, 
he was almost a model young man, aimiable and 
affectionate, the pet of the whole family and inti- 
mate friends. 'But,' said he, 'ever since he came 
back, he has been possessed of a devil, if ever one 
was.' 

"After a time, much to my delight, he asked for 
a transfer to the Soldiers' Home at Dayton, Ohio, 
which I got for him with commendable alacrity, and 
he went there. His conduct at Dayton was the same 
as with me, but after a few months he quite sud- 
denly died, when an autopsy was made. In sawing 



96 MORAL INSANITY 

open the skull at the point of the small scar on his 
forehead, the saw came directly upon the butt end 
of a conical bullet, two-thirds of which projected 
through the skull, piercing the membranes, and into 
the brain. The internal table of the skull had been 
considerably splintered by the ball, the pieces not 
being entirely separated, and there was evidence of 
severe chronic inflammation all around, and quite a 
collection of pus in the brain where the ball projected 
into it. 

"Here was the devil that had possessed the poor 
fellow — that not only took his life, but destroyed his 
character, lost him the love and esteem of his friends, 
and doomed him for half a dozen years to do things 
he would most have hated and despised when he was 
himself. 

"The assistant surgeon found in this man's trunk 
letters from half a dozen women at least, in various 
places, from which it appeared that he was engaged 
to be married to each one of them. In several 
instances the date of reception and reply was noted 
in a business-like way." 

Westphall well says of such persons: "They 
often think correctly and logically, and show reflec- 
tion and deliberation to a certain degree ; but there 
is a certain something lacking, and there are some 
general conceptions, general processes of thought 
and judgment, of which they are incapable. Their 
mentality stops short on a certain plane, especially 
in matters of judgment where every, even unedu- 
cated, person easily succeeds. Certain of the finer 
feelings are absolutely impossible of development in 
them. They often seem perverse, passionate, 
although of true, sustained passion they are 
incapable. Cases of this kind may not reach actual 
intellectual derangement, the moral feeling being 
the acquisition of human culture in the course of 



MORAL INSANITY 97 

development through the ages, its loss is one of the 
earliest effects of degeneration." 

Moreover, it will always be necessary to consider 
the social condition of any one suspected to have 
moral insanity, inasmuch as it is in the loss of social 
feeling by reason of disease that the alienation essen- 
tially consists. If a person loses all good feelings, 
and from being truthful, temperate and considerate, 
becomes a shameless liar, shamelessly vicious and 
brutally perverse, then it is impossible not to see 
the effects of disease. 

Such moral alienation may occur after previous 
attacks of insanity, after acute fevers, after some 
form of brain disease, or after injury of the head, 
as was the case with the example just cited of the 
wounded soldier. 

SELFISHNESS OF SUCH CASES 

As feeling lies deeper in the mind than thought, 
the understanding is not entirely unaffected, albeit 
there may be certainly no positive delusions. The 
whole manner of thinking and reasoning concerning 
self is tainted by the morbid self-feeling. The person 
may judge correctly of the relations of external 
objects and events, and may reason very acutely 
with regard to them; but no sooner is self deeply 
concerned — his real nature touched to the quick — 
than he displays in reasoning the vicious influence 
of his morbid feelings and an answering perversion 
of judgment. He sees everything from the stand- 
point of the narrowest selfishness, gratifies each 
vicious desire of the moment without the least sense 
of shame or thought or prudence, and lies most 
shamefully. He cannot truly realize his relations 
as an element in the social system. It is well to bear 
in mind that the individual is a social element, and 
to take into account his social relations. 

That which would not be offensive or unnatural 



98 MORAL INSANITY 

in a person belonging to the lowest strata of society 
would be most offensive and unnatural in one hold- 
ing a good position in it. Words which, used in the 
latter case, would betoken grave mental disorder, 
may be familiar terms of address amongst the lowest 
class. There would be nothing strange in an Irish 
laborer going about the streets without his coat or 
in his using coarse language to his wife; but if a 
grave and reverend bishop were to walk about the 
town in his shirt sleeves and to use to his wife such 
language as the laborer uses habitually, there would 
be good cause to suspect that his mind was deranged. 

"The extremest example of moral insanity which 
I ever saw," says Maudsley, "was in an old man, 
sixty-nine. He had no little intellectual power, 
could compose well, write tolerable poetry with much 
fluency, and was an excellent keeper of accounts. 
There was no delusion of any kind, and yet he was 
the most hopeless and trying of mortals to deal with. 
Morally, he was utterly depraved ; he would steal 
and hide whatever he could. He then pawned what 
he had stolen, and begged and lied with such plaus- 
ibility that he deceived many. He could make excel- 
lent suggestions and write out admirable rules for 
the management of an asylum, and was very acute 
in detecting any negligence on the part of others ; 
but was always on the watch himself to evade the 
regulations of the house. In short, he had no moral 
sense whatever. At long intervals this patient 
became as plainly insane as any patient in the 
asylum." 

And yet, in the face of cases like this and others 
I have related, people go on maintaining that the 
moral sense is independent of physical organization. 

We see the same moral insanity in children who 
descend from degenerate or insane parents. Other- 
wise we could not account for the extraordinary 
precocity in cunning lying and vicious propencities 



MORAL INSANITY 99 

which is displayed sometimes in very young chil- 
dren. They are destitute of all feelings of affection 
for father or mother, brother or sister; have no 
social sympathies, so that they mingle not with other 
children in their play; delight in destruction and in 
the infliction of tortures on such animals as they dare 
meddle with; lie or steal with an ingenuity that is 
incredible to those who have not experience of their 
extreme moral perversion. They are not in the least 
degree susceptible to moral influence, the severest 
penal discipline and the most patient forbearance. 
The fact is, they are destitute of that potentiality of 
moral development which should be innate in the 
human constitution at their age. 

As there are persons who cannot distinguish cer- 
tain colors, having what is called color-blindness, 
and others who, having no ear for music, cannot 
distinguish one tune from another, so there are some 
few who are congenitally deprived of moral sense. 
Associated with this defect there is frequently more 
or less intellectual deficiency, but not always; it 
sometimes happens there is a remarkably acute 
intellect with no trace of moral feeling. 

There is one disease to which adults are subject, 
viz : Paralytic Dementia, in which the moral charac- 
ter deteriorates early in its history, before the friends 
notice that there is much else the matter, before his 
mind shows symptoms of failure. It is generally a 
long-lived disease, yet early in its history there is 
moral failure. The banker loses his property by 
foolish ventures, the saving business man buys 
quantities of useless articles, the moral man becomes 
licentious, or the temperate a drunkard, the respected 
father of a family goes to the state's prison for run- 
ning off with a pretty servant girl, the high- 
standing citizen is in a police court for assault or 
stealing money or jewelry. Examined by a com- 
petent physician, these men are found to be struck 

LOfa 



100 MORAL INSANITY 

by a fatal disease. Yet a pronounced symptom early 
in the disease was loss of moral control. This is the 
form of insanity we suspect will follow in Mrs. 
Chadwick's case. 

In the preparation of this paper I was greatly 
indebted to Professors Maudsley, Ellis and others. 



Kinship of Genius and Insanity 

As we cannot give a concise definition of either 
genius or insanity that would be intelligible and 
embrace all cases, we are forced to deal with both 
somewhat at large. To show the value of experi- 
ence with the insane, I will cite one example : 

"A man," so says Maudsley, "who has been 
hitherto temperate in all his habits, prudent and 
industrious in business, and exemplary in the rela- 
tions of life, undergoes a great change of charac- 
ter — gives way to dissipation of all sorts, launches 
into reckless speculations in business, and becomes 
indifferent to his wife and family and the obligations 
of his position. His surprised friends see only the 
effects of vice, and grieve over his sad fall from 
virtue. After a time they hear that he is in a police 
court, accused of assault or of stealing money or 
jewelery, and are not greatly astonished that his 
vices have brought him to such a pass. 

"Examined by a competent physician, he is dis- 
covered to have a slight peculiarity of articulation, 
particularly of words containing Unguals and labials, 
such words, for instance, as truly rural ; and he also 
has, perhaps, a slight inquality of the size of the 
pupils, symptoms which, in conjunction with the 
previous history, enable the physician to say with 
positive certainty, that he is struck with a disease 
which, sapping by degrees his intellect and strength, 
will destroy finally his life." 

This disease is what is known as general paralysis 
of the insane. It is generally a long-lived disease, 



102 KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 

and it is a matter of comfort to the physician to be 
able to explain from slight and obscure symptoms 
the exact nature of the case. This case shows fur- 
ther, that where an experienced man would see 
clearly insanity, others would not suspect such a 
thing; and the object of this introduction is to 
emphasize this fact. This precludes the conception 
that an insane mind is always a wild and incoherent 
one, whereas the insanity may effect the feelings 
end emotions alone. On the contrary, it confirms the 
truth, that obscure symptoms alone may long be 
present; in other words, that insanity may be very 
difficult to discover. Witness a case of monamania, 
where the victim may be shrewd enough to conceal 
his delusion under the most rigid examination. There 
is nothing more difficult than to detect insanity in 
these cases, unless the delusion is known. 

Genius has been classed by not a few writers on 
mental diseases with insanity. This impious pro- 
fanation is not, however, altogether the work of 
doctors, nor is it the fruit of modern speculation. 
The great Aristotle observed that, under the influ- 
ence of congestion of the head, many persons become 
poets, and are pretty good poets, while they are 
maniacal, but when cured can no longer write verse. 
After the first battle of the Civil War, many sol- 
diers, on account of the unusual excitement, became 
maniacal. One whom I remember, sang hymns 
immoderately, and composed rhymes as he sang, 
and it was surprising how well he composed. 

Democriatus was more explicit, and would not 
believe that there could be a good poet who was net 
out of his mind. Pascal, later on, repeated that 
extreme intelligence was very near extreme mad- 
ness, and himself offered an example o\ it. Said 
another, "Oh! how near are genius and madness." 
Man\- examples of men who were at once mad and 
highly intelligent are offered by various authors. 



KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 103 

No one has maintained more openly than Schopen- 
hauer, who was himself insane, the relationship of 
genius to insanity. "People of genius," he wrote, 
"are not only unpleasant in practical life, but weak 
in moral sense, and wicked." Genius is closer to 
madness than to ordinary intelligence. The lives of 
men of genius show how often, like lunatics, they 
are in a state of continual agitation. 

The paradox that confounds genius with nervous 
disorder, however cruel and sad it may seem, is 
found to be not devoid of solid foundation. 

Congestion of the brain is common to both the 
insane and men of genius. With regard to the mor- 
bid alterations of the brains of the insane, discovered 
post-mortem, it is said they are found in the mem- 
branes and superficial parts of that organ mostly, and 
those changes are the results of congestion and 
inflammation. Thus, there are thickings and opacity 
of the membranes and adhesions and signs, such as 
effusions in the superficial parts of the brain. Many 
cases, especially those of temporary insanity, are 
clearly the result of congestion alone. This is shown 
by the temporary influence of many substances, such 
as alcohol and opium. 

The paralogical changes referred to in the 
brains of the insane are a result of the long-contin- 
ued action of congestion and inflammation. 

A certain activity of the cerebral circulation is 
necessary to mental activity, and in some cases, 
injuries of the head have led to genius, by producing 
a more active determination of blood to the brain 
than was normal, for some of those to be cited were 
unintelligent before the injury, such as was the case 
with Marcus Clark, the Australian novelist, whose 
skull was crushed in youth by the kick of a horse; 
under injuries of the head come Vico, Gratry, Clem- 
ent VI, Melebranche, and others. 

Generally apoplexy leaves a man only half a 



101 KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 

man, because the clot of blood in the brain 
interferes with the circulation in that organ; later, 
however, the circulation may undergo such modi- 
fication as will be favorable to mental activity : Wit- 
ness Pasteur, who did his best work after an attack 
of that character. I know of others who come under 
this description. I have had some experience along 
this line myself. 

In this paper I shall quote a goodly number of 
literary men, almost all of whom were authors. The 
means some prominent authors resorted to for aiding 
a determination of blood to the brain may be inter- 
esting. Thus Schiller plunged his feet in ice-cold 
w r ater to drive the blood out of them, thinking it 
would go to the brain. Another retired into a cold 
room, with his head enveloped in hot cloths, to 
invite the blood thereto. Rosseau meditated with 
his head in the full glare of the sun. while Shelley 
lay on the hearthrug with his head close to the fire. 

All these were instinctive methods of augmenting 
the cerebral circulation at the expense of the general 
circulation. These men knew that a certain amount 
of blood in the brain was favorable to mental activ- 
ity. But it is doubtful whether they knew that 
beyond a certain amount, confusion of ideas and an 
unreliable judgment are the results. 

Goethe often said that a certain cerebral irrita- 
tion is necessary to the poet. "Nothing, in fact, so 
much resembles a person attacked by madness as a 
man of genius when meditating and moulding his 
conceptions. He exhibits a small contracted pulse, 
cold skin, a hot, feverish head, and brilliant, wild 
injected eyes." So says Parise. 

The brains of men of genius show post-mortem 
conditions similar to those found in the insane, such 
as the evidence of superficial inflammation. 

The close relationship of genius and insanity 
is further shown by the influence < f the weather on 



KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 105 

both. Take insanity first : "A series of clinical 
researches which I carried on for six consecutive 
years/' so says Lombroso, "has shown me with cer- 
tainty that the mental condition of the insane is 
modified in a constant manner by barometrical and 
thermometrical influences. When the temperature 
suddenly rose above a certain point, the number of 
maniacal attacks increased nearly two-fold. On 
days in which the barometer showed sudden varia- 
tions, especially of elevation, the number of maniacal 
attacks rapidly increased." 

The study of 23,602 lunatics, indicating the 
extensive experience of the man, Lombroso, has 
shown me that the development of insanity coincides 
with the increase of monthly temperature and the 
great barometrical perturbations in September and 
March. The minimum number of outbreaks of 
insanity is found in the coldest months. The records 
of other lunatic asylums coincide with this state- 
ment. 

Now, a similar influence may be noted in those 
to whom nature, benevolently or malevolently, has 
conceded the power of intellect, more generously 
than to others — genius, for instance. There are few 
among these that do not confess that their inspira- 
tion is subject to the influence of the weather. They 
have to struggle against the malignant influences 
which impede the free flight of thoughts. One 
writer foretold storms two days before hand. Main 
de Biran wrote : "I do not know how it is that in 
bad weather I feel my intelligence and will so unlike 
what they are in fine weather." 

Thermometric influence is clear and evident. 
Napoleon suffered from the faintest wind ; loved 
heat so much that he would have fires even in July. 
Voltaire and Buffon had their studios warmed 
throughout the year. One writer could compose 
only beneath six quilts in the summer and nine in 



106 KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 

the winter. These examples allow us to suspect that 
heat aids in the production of genius, and, unfor- 
tunately, in the stimulation of mania. This reminds 
us of the fact that race horses make the best time 
in the hottest weather. 

The parallelism of genius and insanity is shown 
further by the proclivity of both men of genius and 
the insane to melancholy. The tendency to melan- 
choly is common to the majority of thinkers, and 
depends upon their exalted general sensitiveness. 
"It is proverbial," said one, "that to feel sorrow 
more than other men constitutes the crown of thorns 
of genius." Aristotle remarked that men of genius 
are of melancholic temperament. Goethe confessed 
that his character passed from extreme joy to 
extreme melancholy, and that every increase of 
knowledge was an increase of sorrow. 

This last statement is contrary to the usual 
experience of healthy-minded, educated man; with 
him every increase of knowledge is an increase of 
joy; and yet Goethe is cited as an exceptionally 
well-balanced literary man, whereas the statement 
just cited shows that he was not. His moral char- 
acter substantiates this statement. 

"I am not made for enjoyment," wrote Flow- 
bert. Giusti was affected by hypochondria, which 
reached to delirium. "Thought," wrote one. "has 
long inflicted on me, and still inflicts, such martyr- 
dom as to produce injurious affects, and it will kill 
me if I do not change my manner of existence." 

I said, in civilized man every increase of knowl- 
edge is an increase of joy; but this is not true with 
barbarous man. With him, the least mental exer- 
tion is painful. "Ask any uncivilized person." so 
say travelers, "a few questions, about his language, 
for instance, and he soon shows signs oi weariness 
and his head begins to ache." 

There was something wrongf with all the men 



KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 107 

above cited — some disorder of the emotions, doubt- 
less due to chronic congestion of the head, as a 
healthy, well-developed brain which education pro- 
duces, craves for, and leads to, mental activity, and 
there is nothing that surpasses the secret joy of 
thought and invention. 

But the number of intellectual giants who have 
shown abnormalities of mind is so immense that it 
would require a small volume to record even their 
names; and the list of great men who have com- 
mitted suicide is almost endless. 

A fact worthy of note in this connection is the 
insane and criminal parentage and descent of genius. 
We find that many lunatics have parents of genius, 
and many men of genius have parents or sons who 
were epileptic, mad or, above all, criminal. Byron's 
mother was half-mad, his father was dissolute and 
eccentric, and is said to have committed suicide. It 
has been said of Byron, that if ever there was. a case 
in which hereditary influence could justify eccen- 
tricity of character, it was his. 

Melancholy is present, also, in a great many 
forms of insanity, one form bearing the name Mel- 
ancholia. It may be an initial stage of acute mania 
or of paralytic dementia, and may be persistent. It 
may be present with delusions, such as a refusal to 
eat, and disagreeable hallucinations of various kinds. 
It was written for the benefit of the courts by some 
one whose name I have forgotten, that it should be 
kept in mind that persons with acute melancholy 
have diminished power of self-control ; in other 
words, are insane in a measure. 

THE EFFECT OF CONSERVATION OR PERSISTENCY OF 
ENERGY 

There is much in this doctrine, as applied to the 
brain — that is, where certain parts of that organ are 
too constantly exercised by one kind of mental activ- 



108 KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 

ity, they become unduly developed at the expense of 
others, which atrophy or dwindle. For instance, 
where a surplus of energy is given to the intellectual 
centers, less remains for the moral cells. "A fact 
established by Tamburini and myself," so says one, 
"was that the best artists of the asylums were all 
morally insane." And how is it that so many 
philosophers affirm that genius consists in an exag- 
gerated development of one faculty at the expense of 
others? It is certain that there have been men of 
genius presenting a complete equilibrium of the 
intellectual faculties, but they have defects of affec- 
tivity and feeling. Great intellect, as a whole, is 
not readily united with a large emotional nature. 

The incompatibility is best seen by inquiring 
whether men of overflowing sociability are deep, 
original thinkers, or whether their greatness is not 
limited to the sphere where feeling performs a part. 
Therefore, in addition to a natural inharmonious 
proportion in the various cells of the brain there 
may be developed a great disparity by our habits of 
thinking and feeling, and hence the danger of a 
hobby in producing an unbalanced condition. There 
is scarcely a genius on record in whom we could not, 
if well acquainted with his character, find evident 
flaws. 

There is Herbert Spencer, for instance. Judg- 
ing alone by his sensible voluminous writings, not- 
withstanding his theory of universal evolution, 
which was the burden of his life, and the theme that 
runs through all his writings, we would say he was 
one of the most level-headed men that ever lived; 
and yet he was noted for his complete indifference 
to women (a trait of character common to many 
other men of genius), for it is said of Spencer that 
he was never known to be in love with a woman in 
his life. I'.nt was he merely a man of talent, or was 
lie a srenius? 



KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 109 

Lowell says they are not the same. He says that 
talent is that which is in a man's power; genius is 
that in whose power a man is. From the facts men- 
tioned above concerning Spencer, from his origin- 
ality, his instantaneous and unconscious flashes of 
thought, from his poor memory for certain things, 
his nervous break-downs, the long intervals in which 
he dare not write anything, from his insomnia, and 
other things, we infer that he was afflicted with that 
disease we call Genius, and that he was also out of 
harmony with his surroundings, which was shown 
by the fact that at one time he could bear only a few 
minutes' conversation, and this, too, when he was up 
and about and in the prime of life. This symptom 
grew on him with age. In his old age, Mr. Carnegie 
made him a present of a new piano, which he had 
played upon on two occasions, but not more, as it 
completely unstrung him. 

^Notwithstanding his dogma of human evolution, 
no one could have imagined that Darwin, a model 
father and citizen, so self-controlled, and even so 
free from vanity, was a neuropath. Like all neuro- 
paths, he could bear neither heat or cold; half an 
hour of conversation beyond his habitual time was 
sufficient to cause sleeplessness and hinder his work 
on the following day. He suffered from Spinal 
Anaemia and Giddiness (which last is known to be 
frequently the equivalent of Epilepsy) ; he also had 
curious crotchets. 

We do not say these men were actually insane; 
intellectually deranged. This would have been a 
strange occurrence in men of science. Had they 
been artists, it would doubtless have been different. 
That they suffered from abnormal affectivity and 
lived on the borderland of insanity is not incredible 
to believe, for it should not be forgotten that dis- 
order of the emotions leads to disorder of the intel- 
lect. 



110 KINSHIP OF GBNIUS AND INS AN Ill- 
Then there is Edison, our own genius, whose 
hobby is electricity; and he, too, has shown strong 
symptoms of abnormality. First, was in his abrupt 
proposal of marriage, that was without a preliminary 
courtship, which even the fowls of the air indulged 
in : He had a lady telegraph operator in his employ, 
who one day said to him: "Mr. Edison, I can 
always tell when you are behind me or near me." 

Said he in turn : "Miss , if you are willing 

to marry me, I would like to marry you." Xext, 
there is his restlessness, concerning which he tells 
us himself, in relation to working out a problem in 
mathematics, that he cannot do it on paper, "for I 
must be moving around." Lastly, there is the fact 
that, instead of taking pleasure in his inventions, as 
most men do, he hates them, however successful. 
It is said he has not used a telephone in ten years; 
cannot bear the sight of them ; and walks out of 
his way to avoid the sight of an electric light. If 
these things be true, they are symptoms of abnormal 
affectivity, for when we reflect that he has nearly 
1,000 patents, it is evident he must be in a miserable 
state of constant hatred. It is said that Edison 
thinks four or five hours of sleep out of the twenty- 
four is enough for any one ; an opinion not endorsed 
by any one else. If he acts upon this theory, no 
wonder he is a genius and has abnormalities. A 
certain prominent English physician, whose name I 
have forgotten, testified on one occasion in court 
that he had never seen a perfectly sane man. This 
is going a little too far, as it makes all the human 
race insane, a proposition we cannot believe. On 
the other hand, those who see insanity alone where 
the intellect is affected see only a comparatively small 
number of cases. Insanity may lie in the emotions 
alone. 

Anyway, the examples above cited will serve to 
show the necessity of a good, all-round mental 



KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 111 

development versus a special one, including moral 
training as the best generative and preservative of 
a well-balanced mind. That genius is an extraordi- 
nary and abnormal variation from a healthy average 
manhood is shown by the fact that it is only slightly 
hereditary. It is not as much so as insanity, show- 
ing that it is a greater variation from a normal 
standard. Commonly geniuses are sterile. Crocker 
says that all the great English poets have no pos- 
terity. 

Still geniuses do have off-spring, but they are 
rarely geniuses. An exception, perhaps, should be 
made of musical geniuses — witness : the Bach family. 
Nevertheless, the exception wears out and disappears 
in no great length of time. Yet, that talent is trans- 
missible by inheritance, within the limits of the 
species, appears entirely in keeping with our knowl- 
edge of human nature. The world would have made 
poor progress in enlightenment and civilization if 
the modifications wrought in man's brain by intel- 
lectual and moral culture had not been inheritable. 
This indicates a difference between genius and intel- 
ligence, and this difference makes in favor of the 
abnormality of genius. Genius is unnatural, for it 
discerns afar-off annalogies too dim for the normal 
eye, and leaps gaps too wide for the healthy limb. 

Sir Francis Galton, on account of the number of 
children of ability born to men of talent, used to 
think that genius, too, was inheritable, but after- 
ward changed his mind, becoming - convinced that 
all extraordinary characters tend to revert to 
mediocrity, since there is a repugnance in nature to 
mediocrity, since there is a reupgnance in nature to 
extreme variations from the average type. Were 
genius decidedly inheritable, the result would soon 
be the development of a higher species of man, sep- 
arating itself widely from lower species. A genius 



112 KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 

is not a new and distinct individual; he is still a 
man, and the only question is whether, in many 
cases, his variation does not make him an abnormal 
specimen. Dryden expressed the truth when he 
wrote that charming verse which runs : 

"Great wits are sure to madness near allied, 
And thin partitions do their bounds divide." 

Moreau was not far wrong when he said : 
"Genius has its material substratum in a semi-morbid 
state of the brain, which is substantially identical 
with the insane temperament." One thing is cer- 
tain, and that is great genius has its roots in a nerv- 
ous organization of exceptional delicacy. "This pre- 
ternatural sensitiveness of nerve is shown in many 
cases by particular sensitiveness to sound, which 
many geniuses have shown. The possession of 
genius carries with it a special liability to the action 
of disintegrating forces, which environ us, and 
involves a state of delicate equipoise in the psycho- 
physical organization," so says James Sully. It is 
even said that the signs of degeneration are found 
more frequently in men of genius than even in the 
insane, just as giants pay a heavy ransom for their 
stature, in sterility and relative muscular and mental 
weakness. 

It is pertinent to our study to remark that men 
of genius have, in a surprising number of cases, 
been effected by forms of nervous disease, some of 
which have been manifested by physical accompani- 
ments, such as occur in states of insanity, which 
allies it thereto. We will study a little more closely 
a couple of these diseases. 

The first is Chorea, or St. Vitus' dance. Many 
men of genius, like the insane, are subject to curious 
spasmodic movements. Leneau and Montsquesieu 
left upon the floor of their rooms the signs of the 
movements by which their feet were convulsively 
agitated during composition. Quite a number of 



KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 113 

other geniuses exhibited the most remarkable facial 
contortions. There was a constant quiver on 
-Thomas Campbell's thin lips. Another was long- 
subject to convulsive movements of the arms. 
Napoleon suffered from habitual spasm of the right 
shoulder and of the lips. Carducis' face — that is, 
the celebrated painter's — at certain moments was a 
veritable hurricane — lightnings darted from his 
eyes and his muscles trembled. Ampere, the great 
electrician, could only express his thoughts while 
walking, and when his body was in a state of con- 
stant movement. These things indicate a choreic 
disease. 

Among the earliest symptoms of this disease are 
those referable to brain disorder. The character 
and disposition of the patient undergo a marked 
change, and there is beside, from first to last, a very 
decided impairment of mental vigor. The emotions 
are easily excited, and the temper becomes fretful 
and variable, showing that the mind is effected more 
or less. In a few cases, there is decided mania, but 
it is generally of temporary duration ; yet, where 
the physical. symptoms persist, although limited, the 
question is whether they may not distort the mind. 

"I believe," says Maudsley, "without choreic dis- 
order of movements, there is a true choreic mania. 
It is an acute delirium of ideas, which is the counter- 
part of the usual delirium of movements — a mental 
chorea instead of a physical one. 

The second condition referred to is Epilepsy, or 
Falling Sickness. There is one thing about Epi- 
lepsy in which almost all are agreed, however great 
the difference of physicians as to its nature ; and 
that one thing is, that even slight manifestations of 
the disease impair the mind, especially its moral pow- 
ers, producing insanity in the end ; hence the import- 
ance of this disease in the study of our subject. The 
epileptic disease does not get well on the occurrence 



114 KINSHIP OF GENIUb AND INSANITY 

of insanity, but both grow worse together ; hence we 
know that insane people do have epilepsy. 

We know, further, that numbers of men of 
genius have had such attacks. There was Julius 
Csesar, for instance. Twice upon the field of battle 
the Epileptic Vertigo nearly had a serious influence 
on Csesar's fate. Epileptic convulsions sometimes 
hindered Molier from doing any kind of work for a 
fortnight. Mahomet had visions after an epileptic 
fit. Newton and Swift were subject to Vertigo, 
which is related to Epilepsy. 

Genuine Epilepsy, we know, in almost all cases, 
impairs the mind, but there are almost latent and 
irregular forms, which effect it also. There may 
be but few physical signs of the disease, which are 
all the more important on that account, such as was 
the case with Petrach, Peter the Great, Handel, 
Richileu, Charles V., Dostoieffsky, and others. 

It may require close observation to detect the 
true nature of these cases, and yet it is highly import- 
ant to do so, because these slight and irregular mani- 
festations of Epilepsy have a more injurious effect 
upon the mind than pronounced paroxysms have. 

This is the universal testimony of medical writ- 
ers. It must be the pathological condition that gives 
rise to the loss of consciousness which characterizes 
these cases, for their distinctive feature is the 
momentary loss of consciousness many times daily, 
for some days together. It is the pathological con- 
dition which has the effect of producing mental 
impairment; it surely could not be the momentary 
loss of consciousness itself, for nowadays the 
superiority of the subconscious state is frequently 
claimed, and greatly exaggerated. 

Consciousness may interfere, by distraction, with 
menial concentration, just as vision may; but as Far 
as the superiority of the sub-conscious state is con- 



KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 115 

cerned, we cannot see it any more than the superior- 
ity of blindness. 

The mention of the above observations may seem 
strange in this connection to persons unacquainted 
with the way in which the region of Epilepsy has 
been extended in modern times, so that many cases 
of headache, or simple loss of memory, are now 
recognized as forms of Epilepsy in disguise. 

If Epilepsy were the very limited disease it is 
commonly supposed to be, there would be no excuse 
for this long dissertation upon the subject. But it 
is not; it is wide-spread, impressing itself upon 
other forms of nervous disease. The children of a 
parent subject to attacks of severe Neuralgia of the 
head, for instance, are liable to attacks of Epilepsy 
or Insanity, showing that the off-spring of per- 
sons who have suffered from one nervous disease 
frequently inherit a liability to the attack of some 
other nervous disease than that which has given 
them their neurotic heritage. It may be Chorea, 
Dipsomania, Neuralgia, Epilepsy, or Insanity. 

And then, again, instances occasionally present 
themselves in which the disorder is transferred sud- 
denly from one set of nerve centers, the old symp- 
toms ceasing, and quite a new order of symptoms 
supervening. Thus a severe Neuralgia disappears 
and the patient is attacked with some form of mad- 
ness, the morbid conditions of perverted function 
having been transferred from the sensory centers to 
the mind centers. When the madness has passed 
away, the Neuralgia may return. 

Again, convulsions cease and insanity occurs, 
the transference being from the motor centers to the 
mind centers, showing that nervous diseases are 
interchangeable among themselves. I refer to this 
fact because it renders the obscurity of Epilepsy all 
the more obscure. 

I lay great stress upon Epilepsy, as most medical 



116 KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 

men do, because nothing is more certain to impair 
the mind, and where the symptoms show its nature, 
we expect mental impairment; not only so, but the 
frequent occurrence of Epilepsy in men of genius 
suggests the hypothesis of the Epileptic nature of 
genius itself, which is a very important suggestion. 
This is the especial reason why I dwell so long on 
this repulsive disease. 

In this connection, it is important to note that 
there are cases of Epilepsy in which external convul- 
sions rarely appear. There is such a thing as Mental 
Epilepsy, where the attacks effect the mind alone, 
without external paroxysms, or where the mental 
attacks alternate with convulsive paroxysms. 

The confession of men themselves, such men as 
Mahomet, Goncourt, Buffon, and others, ought to 
mean much, as the known effect of Epilepsy on the 
mind cause almost all, to conceal the disease. "My 
nerves are irritable,"' said Napoleon, and he was not 
seldom seen to shed tears under strong emotion. 
He used to claim that a battle could be won in an 
instant — that is, by an instantaneous flash of 
thought, which assimilates the incident to the 
mstantaneousness of an epileptic attack. Taine said 
of him: "All his sayings are fire-flashes. Never 
was there a more impatient sensibility. He threw 
garments that did not fit him into the fire. His treat- 
ment of his brothers and wife showed his want of 
the moral sense. Tie was morally insane." 

Complete absence of moral sense and sympathy 
is frequently found among men of this class. 

One of the greatest geniuses America has ever 
produced was Edgar Allen Poe, yet he was a dipso- 
maniac from youth throughout life. Dipsomania is 
regarded as a form of insanity, and from its period- 
icity, its uncontrollableness and the profound change 
of moral character, with which it is accompanied; 



KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 117 

from these symptoms, it appears nearly allied to 
Epilepsy. 

A fact which shows a close alliance of genius to 
Epilepsy is that it is the same form of insanity, viz : 
moral insanity, that so frequently shows itself in 
both. We have already spoken of the moral insanity 
of men of genius. Epileptics may become for the 
time liars, thieves, suspicious, discontented and irri- 
table, and on the slightest pretext yield to sudden 
outbreaks of violence. 

There are many other points which show the 
analogy of genius and Epilepsy which I have not 
dwelt upon, such as the instantaneousness of the 
inspiration of the men of genius ; its effects upon the 
body, as prostration with a weak pulse ; its involun- 
tary character, its unconsciousness, its intermitency 
and the forgetfulness which attends it, etc. These 
things all show a close resemblance and relationship 
of genius to Epilepsy. 

Speaking of forgetfulness as a sign of mental 
deterioration reminds us that Lombroso, a man to 
whom I owe much in the preparation of this paper, 
suffered from that misfortune (whether from 
genius, Epilepsy, or what not), for the reason that a 
passage was no sooner written than forgotten. We 
would say, from his checkered life and want of 
mental equipoise, that Lombroso was himself a 
genius, and late developments show him to have 
been a decidedly cranky one at that. 

Some may object to this paper because it contains 
so much pathology; whereas man's well-being 
requires that he not only know much of his healthy 
self, but of the morbid conditions to which he is 
liable, and also of the effects of the latter upon his 
mind. Hence I will cite one other case, though not 
of an epileptic nature, to show the effect of a bodily 
state upon the intellect in the way of rendering it 
more acute. A physician in charge of a certain 



118 KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 

asylum in France related the history of a certain 
patient as follows : 

"During his malady, he had shown a remarkable 
talent for writing, though when in good health he 
would have been quite incapable of doing as much. 
'I am not quite cured/ he said to the physician, who 
thought him convalescent. 'I am still too clever for 
that. When I am well, I take a week to write a 
letter. In my natural condition, I am stupid. Wait 
until I become so again before you discharge me.' " 

In conclusion, I will say that it is in the nervous 
temperament — the temperament of the intellectual — 
that nervous disorders, such as Genius, Epilepsy and 
Insanity, closely allied conditions, are most liable to 
occur. I place Epilepsy between the others as it is 
a common originator of both, hence the frequency 
of genius among lunatics and of madness among 
men of genius. "Although there are many well- 
balanced men of this temperament, whose mental 
labors only serve to keep them in just poise, it should 
not be forgotten that the frequency of Epileptic 
symptoms in genius shoivs that genius is a degen- 
erative mental disease of the Epileptic group;" so 
says Lombroso, although it must be confessed that 
he attached greater importance to Epilepsy in the 
production of genius than is generally admitted by 
others. The symptoms of Epilepsy may be long 
over-looked; the major paroxysms occurring at 
night only, those which occur in the daytime being 
slight or irregular, so that moral perversity may he 
our only clew. But generally many of the S3^ni]H. mi is 
of genius indicate an irritable and unstable condi- 
tion of the brain, which borders on, if it does not 
amount to disease, for the greater and more com- 
plex, the energy displayed, the greater the molecular 
activity of the brain-cells, and the greater this activ- 
ity, the greater the cell decomposition, and the 
greater the liability to mental disorder. 



KINSHIP OF GENIUS AND INSANITY 119 

If genius means the faculty of receiving inspira- 
tion, or rushes of ideas from apparently supernatural 
sources, it is dangerously nearly to that aptitude for 
hearing voices possessed by the insane. It cannot, in 
such cases, be a healthy faculty. On the other hand, 
if genius means uncommon power of intellect, we 
ought to be suspicious when it appears, for the old 
saying is, "It takes brains to go mad," because it 
has long been well known that great intellect is very 
rarely associated with a well-balanced, emotional 
nature. Good common sense travels on the well- 
worn paths; genius never; because the man of 
genius is essentially original, a lover of originality, 
and is the natural enemy of tradition and conserva- 
tism. We ought, therefore, to congratulate our- 
selves if we are not included in the class commonly 
known as geniuses, 
sounding title may seem. 



Evolution 



The word evolution, now generally applied to 
worldly processes, meaning all visible things, taken 
in its popular signification, means progressive 
development — that is, gradual change from a condi- 
tion of relative uniformity to one of relative com- 
plexity. As a natural process, of the same character 
as the development of a tree from its seed, or of a 
fowl from the egg. 

The theory of evolution has been opposed by 
many, simply on the ground that it leads to atheism. 
I do not think it necessarily does. 

It is very desirable to remember that evolution 
is not an explanation of the worldly process, but 
merely a generalized statement of the method and 
results of that process. 

If the worldly process was set going by any 
agent, then that agent is the creator of it, although 
supernatural intervension may remain strictly 
excluded from its further course. 

Evolution assumes the existence of matter. It 
assumes that the visible universe, all the heavenly 
bodies, the sun, earth, and all the planets and stars 
existed as finely divided matter or mist. This is the 
nebular theory; a theory advanced by Emmanuel 
Kant, a German philosopher, over one hundred and 
fifty years ago. The same theory was advocated by 
Laplace, a French mathematician; also by Sir Wil- 
liam Herschel, of England, a practical observer of 
the heavens with the telescope. Be it remembered 

120 



EVOLUTION 121 

that these men arrived at the same result, independ- 
ently and ignorant of each other's efforts. 

This theory accounts for, a great host of facts, 
and stands the test of investigation. Yet it presup- 
poses the existence of very important facts. We 
have already mentioned the existence of matter. 
There are certain qualities inherent in matter, or 
nebular mist, that it does not account for. 

For instance, it assumes that the particles of 
matter exert an attractive influence over each other. 
Whence came this attraction by which the particles 
are brought together into a body, and how is it that 
they adhere after they come together? Whence 
came the unrest we find in these nebulous particles, 
for they exist today, as our observations prove? 

Take, for instance, the great nebula in the direc- 
tion of the constellation of stars known as Orien, 
which is a million times as large as the orbit of the 
remotest planet known in the solar system. Why 
the disquiet of its particles? Why their agitation, 
their motion? And why is it, after they come 
together, they still move on an axis, and also around 
a common center ? We must answer these questions 
before we can ignore the existence of a creator. 

And then there is the further question, why 
is it all plants and animals on earth exhibit the 
tendency to vary? It is the tendency of the condi- 
tions of life, at any given time, while favoring the 
existence of variations best adapted to them, to 
oppose that of the rest, and thus exercise selection. 
Without the first tendency, there could be no evolu- 
tion; without the second, there would be no selec- 
tion or survival of the fittest, or struggle for exist- 
ence. 

CREATION 

There are many who adhere to a literal transla- 
tion of the creation of the earth and man, and all 
animals and plants, as given in Genesis — that they 



122 EVOLUTION 

were created in six days. Many others, including 
nearly all scientists and very many theologians, 
advocate a more liberal translation of this account, 
claiming that the rocky pages of the earth are a more 
reliable record than any paper pages of writings any- 
where to be found; claiming that the word begin- 
ning is too indefinite, and that the days mentioned 
are periods, and that creation was not completed, 
but is going on still. That it is no disparagement to 
the Diety to say that he did confer on organized 
matter the ability to modify itself to suit sur- 
roundings. 

That climate and food and the struggle for life 
exert these modifying influences ; that the struggle 
for existence may call out and develop a new limb 
or alter an old one, lengthen or shorten an old one, 
or variously modify the whole organism, and that 
these modifications may go on until practically a 
new creature is the result. This class of philosophers 
claim that such a view is more to the credit of the 
Diety than is the necessity for Him to create a new 
creature whenever altered conditions call for it. 

Taking into consideration all the species that 
now exists and those that have become extinct, ten 
millions or more acts of special creation would have 
been necessary. The ability to confer on one pri- 
meval form or a few forms, life, with the power to 
undergo modifications to suit the exigencies of life, 
redowns to his glory. This is the view taken by the 
most advanced scientist, and is called evolution. 

Passing over such noted pioneers in this field of 
thought as Darwin. Wallace and Huxley, we come 
to Herbert Spencer, whom we cannot afford to pass 
lightly by, for Herbert Spencer was one of the great- 
est of them all. He was articled in his seventeenth 
year to a railway engineer, and followed that profes- 
sion until he was twenty-five. During this period he 
wrote several papers on various subjects. In 1850 he 



EVOLUTION 123 

gave up engineering and went on the staff of the 
Economist, and published a paper in which may be 
seen the first step toward the general doctrine of 
evolution. In this paper he showed that society 
developed along this line. 

The thought of human interest pervades his 
writings from this time forth. Social and ethical 
questions are kept in the van throughout, as much 
as to say, "I am a man, and nothing human is for- 
eign to me." And yet he finds fault with Darwin's 
theory, on the ground that it deals only with the 
evolution of plants and animals from a common 
ancestry, thereby forming a very small part of the 
general theory of the origin of the earth and other 
bodies. Spencer was a thoroughgoing evolutionist, 
from the nebular hypothesis of Kant on through 
organic creatures to man, believing that evolution 
influenced his conduct and morals and legislation of 
social aggregates. 

He claimed that we can show that the process of 
modification has effected and is effecting decided 
changes in all organism subject to modifying influ- 
ences; one of the great points in the doctrine on 
which Darwin laid stress. "Evolution can show," 
says he, "that in successive generations these changes 
continue. They can show that in cultivated plants, 
domesticated animals, and in several races of men, 
such alterations have taken place. They can show 
that the degrees of difference so introduced are often, 
as in dogs, greater than those on which distinctions 
of species are in other cases founded. And thus they 
can show that throughout all organic nature there 
is at work a modifying influence, though slow in its 
action, which would produce in millions of years 
any amount of change." 

Let us take the evolution of an animal familiar 
to us all — the horse, for instance, and particularly 
the development of his foot. This evolution we 



124 EVOLUTION 

can trace, in his fossil remains, through various 
ages of the earth. These fossil remains were traced 
by Professor Marsh, of Yale college, on Green river, 
in Wyoming. As found in the earliest known line 
of descent of the horse family, he had three toes on 
the hind foot and four perfect, serviceable toes on 
the fore-foot; but in addition to the fore- foot, an 
imperfect fifth, or splint, and possibly a correspond- 
ing rudimentary fifth toe, or thumb, like a dew-claw. 
Also, the two bones of the leg and fore-arm were 
yet entirely distinct. This animal was no larger than 
a fox. Next came an animal of similar size and 
structure, except that the rudimentary thumb, or 
dew-claw, is dropped, leaving only four toes on the 
fore-foot. Next came an animal in which the fourth 
toe has become a rudimentary and useless splint. 
Next came one more horse-like than the preceeding. 
The rudimentary fourth splint is now almost gone, 
and the middle hoof has become larger; neverthe- 
less the two side hoofs are still serviceable. The 
two bones of the leg have also become united, though 
still quite distinct. This animal was about the size 
of a sheep. Next came an animal still more horse- 
like than the preceeding, both in structure and size. 
Every rudiment of the fourth splint is now gone, 
the middle hoof has become still larger, and the two 
sidehoofs smaller and shorter, and no longer serv- 
iceable, except in marshy ground. It was about the 
size of a small mule. Next came almost the com- 
plete horse. The hoofs are reduced to one. Last 
comes in the modern horse. The hoof has become 
rounder, the splint bones shorter, and the evolu- 
tionary change is complete. There can be no doubt 
that, if we could trace the line of descent still further 
back, we would find a perfect five-toed ancestor. 

In a similar way has been traced the line of 
descent of the modern camel and the modern deer, 
and other animals. These things, when taken in 



EVOLUTION 125 

connection with increasing size of the brain, and, 
therefore, presumably with increasing brain power, 
shows a gradual improvement of structure adapted 
for speed and activity, and increase of nervous and 
muscular energy necessary to work the improved 
structure. 

The history of the earth shows that certain ani- 
mals have died out and are no longer represented 
by living creatures, but that new ones have taken 
their places. Did this necessitate a new act of crea- 
tion of the Diety? This idea was repulsive to the 
pioneers of evolution, who claim that old forms 
have been so acted on by changed conditions of cli- 
mate, the necessities of life, such as change of food 
and surroundings, as to so modify them that in 
course of time they become new creatures. 

Evolutionists claim that life commenced in a 
low form, such as a mass of jelly, and that it con- 
tinued, under modifications and the new forms, 
become permanent without the intervention of a 
supernatural being. Now, if we once admit the 
modification of physical structure and the perma- 
nency of the modifications, and the transmission of 
them by inheritance, we admit what evolutionists 
claim, and open the door to the peopling of the 
earth with myriads of creatures of vastly different 
forms and modes of life. 

How about the evolution of mind? There are 
manifestations of mind in the lower animals, still 
more so in the lowest savages, becoming more and 
more evolved as civilization increases. Mind in- 
creases as life becomes more complex, showing that 
the adjustment of life to suit its surroundings calls 
forth mental effort and increase of mental activity; 
and we know that the evolved state of the mind is 
transmitted by inheritance from the fact that the 
children of the cultured are far in advance in the 
way of intelligence of those of the barbarous. And 



126 EVOLUTION 

we know, further, that there is great difference 
between the mind of one who can scarcely count 
beyond his fingers and the mind of the astronomer 
who can correctly calculate an eclipse of the sun 
10,000 years hence, showing at least the effect of 
individual evolution. 

THE MORAL FACULTIES 

Many of the most advanced thinkers claim that 
our moral powers are entirely evolved, including in 
that word the inheritance of powers that were 
evolved by ancestors. We see the rudiments of a 
conscience in the lower animals, such as manifesta- 
tions of shame or guilt. We do not see that it 
makes any difference whether or not we receive the 
rudiments of a conscience directly from the Diety 
or the ability to acquire them by experience, so long 
as we acquire them. We know there is great differ- 
ence between the conscience of the savage and the 
civilized man, which shows that it does undergo 
great individual evolution, but no amount of argu- 
ment would convince such men as Huxley, Herbert 
Spencer and Maudsley that ethics did not take origin 
entirely in evolution. Suppose they did ; that does 
not disprove the existence of Diety, for if the soil 
were not favorable — that is, God-like, — the moral 
faculties would not evolve. 



The Value of Moral Character 

If it could be proven that this life is all there is, 
and that there is no hereafter, in which goodness 
could be rewarded or badness punished, this would 
not take away the value of virtue or the evil of vice. 
We are treading upon delicate ground when we talk 
of such things apart from a hereafter. But apart 
from a hereafter no selfishness would enter into our 
motives. We would not be good because we 
expected to be rewarded for our goodness, but 
because it is right that we should be, because it is 
our duty to be so, without any reference to reward. 
It is a question whether the hope of reward does not 
detract from the pureness of our motives. 

Again, if it could be proven that there is no God 
to reward or punish us, that would not relieve us 
from the duty of being good. We ought to be good 
because it is right that we should, without reference 
to the will of a supreme being, and without reference 
to the fact that, if we are not, we are liable to be 
punished. Yet the nature of things is such that good- 
ness is to our advantage. Whether we have a sep- 
arate faculty called conscience, or whether a sense 
of right and wrong be a growth in the human mind, 
still in civilized human races it is there, and the feel- 
ing that arises when we see an act of cruelty prac- 
ticed upon a weakly and helpless creature is very 
different from that which arises when we see an 
act of kindness practiced upon the same creature. 

Anyway, you will have to do something more 
than get rid of a belief in a future state, and some- 

127 



128 VALUE OF MORAL CHARACTER 

thing more than get rid of a belief in a God, in order 
to get rid of the obligation to be good. The obliga- 
tion to be good seems to rise up out of the nature 
of things, regardless of what we believe. This is for- 
tunate, since there are thousands of beliefs and 
unbeliefs in the world, and none of them relieve us 
from the obligation to practice virtue, or from the 
punishment our moral nature inflicts upon the prac- 
tice of vice. 

What lends importance to the sense of wrong- 
doing is the power of memory. It is not only the 
punishment that wrong-doing inflicts at present, but 
it is the continual remembrance of it as long as the 
mind lasts,- and not only so, but the sense of wrong- 
doing may accumulate, that is, it may intensify by 
reflection or brooding over it. If the wrong is very 
great, like Banko's ghost, it will not down. 

Whatever makes a deep impression upon the 
mind is much more likely to be long retained. And 
some have thought that remorse is the worm that 
dieth not. 

One of the advantages of a moral life is that, 
as you grow older, you will live more and more in 
the past. If the life has been an upright one, the 
reminiscences will bring up pleasure ; if vicious, they 
will bring unhappiness. What rest can a murderer 
have from his ill deed? The man who has wasted 
his powers in intemperance can have but little com- 
fort in casting over his misspent energies. Whereas 
the well-intentioned one may reflect with pleasure 
upon a life devoted to good purposes . 

Another advantage of a good life arrives from 
the power of habit. The performance of an act, 
whether good or bad, is easier a second time than 
the first, and continues to become easier with each 
repetition until no effort attends it. If bad, the 
power of resistence becomes weakened with each 
repetition until they amount to nothing. A second 



VALUE OF MORAL CHARACTER 129 

nature is acquired, so that at first what required 
effort now requires none. It becomes automatic and 
unconscious. The advantage of a good moral char- 
acter is that we act in harmony with it when we are 
not aware of it. This is the advantage of voluntary 
directing our thoughts and actions in the ways of 
right living when we are young. For our minds, 
and even our bodies, in their minute nutrition, 
become moulded in such habits so that it is easier 
to do right than wrong; to do wrong becomes a 
wrench or violence to our natures. A good man 
may do wrong, but generally, if it is a great wrong, 
it is because his mind, by long operation of adverse 
events, has become unhinged and unsound. 

Another advantage of well-doing, it gives us 
standing in the community in which we live. We 
all need the confidence of our associates, and there 
may be times when we may need it sorely, and then 
again there are many little offices of kindness which 
cost the giver little or nothing which will be of 
benefit to us. Charity associations and mutual 
benefit societies are based upon this principle and 
require an applicant to prove good moral character. 
Even life insurance associations attach great import- 
ance to the same thing, even as a financial precau- 
tion. Large employers are beginning to look largely 
into the moral habits of laborers, rejecting especially 
the intemperate. 

There is a beauty about a well-proportioned char- 
acter, a good, all-around man. He may not be bril- 
liant in any one respect, but there is a harmony 
about him that is pleasing. You never see him make 
a bad break in any particular. All the affections of 
his mind are under apparently good control. 
Patience is well developed, so that if things are 
against him for a time, he has faith that a turn in 
his affairs will occur, and that things will come out 
all risfht. 



130 VALUE OF MORAL CHARACTER 

On the other hand, "vice is a monster of so 
frightful mien to be hated needs but to be seen." 

As it eats away the supports of character, and 
thereby weakens it, it is an object of repulsion to a 
virtuous man. Slowly, but surely, it undermines 
the power of self-control, until he that would do 
good finds that evil is present with him. 



Formation and Effe&s of Character 

As personal character is the only thing in this 
world that amounts to anything, it is well worth 
while to give it a little study. I shall confine the 
word character to imply alone the effects of our 
experiences upon ourselves. In doing this, I shall 
first call your attention to the effects of mental action 
upon the body. This we may do in the study of 
memory. It is a question whether an impression or 
modification once wrought, deeply, in the brain ever 
entirely fades away. It may be forgotten for a long 
time, but is it beyond the power of recall? 

A very interesting case is recorded of an old 
ignorant servant woman who, in an attack of fever, 
repeated verses in the dead languages. Her young 
physician determined to ferit out the matter. He 
found that when she was young she had been a 
servant in the family of a clergyman, who was in 
the habit of walking his hall repeating aloud or read- 
ing verses in Latin, Greek and Hebrew. These 
verses became impressed on her mind and lay dor- 
mant for a long time. But when she became sick, 
the peculiar state of the blood, incident to the fever, 
revived them. After recovery she was again ignor- 
ant of them. In this case, doubtless, what we may 
call association memory played the important part; 
that is, one word brought on the next, by reason of 
the fact that they had been thus associated in her 
mind. These threads of association is the part that 
the mind itself engenders, and we may look upon 
them as a material change in the brain itself. 

131 



132 CHARACTER: FORMATION— EFFECTS 

But these are only threads of association that 
the mind forms which we have spoken of ; but there 
must be things that are thus associated. These are 
the separate original impressions or modifications. 
These, too, we claim, exert a material effect upon the 
brain. There is one peculiarity about them, and that 
is they require time to exert their full influence, so 
that they will be well remembered. If our thoughts 
are interrupted by a startling occurrence, as we know 
by experience, we are likely to forget what we are 
thinking about. Or in cases of head injury, it is a 
matter of record that the memory not only fails for 
subsequent events, but that for preceeding ones, for 
a day or so, have been forgotten. Which seems to 
show that impressions had not had time to work 
their full material effects upon the brain — the ink, 
as it w T ere, is wiped off before the page has had time 
to dry. 

In what this material change consists, we do not 
know; whether it is some rearrangement of the 
particles of the brain matter, or some alteration of 
their affinities, we can only conjecture. We have 
reason to believe that it is a change induced through 
nutrition; induced by the impression or idea itself. 
Wherever there is action, there is flux of blood, and 
wherever there is repeated flux of blood, there is 
altered nutrition. Nutrition may be depended upon 
to faithfully reproduce any changes that have been 
effected. Of this we have an example in the repro- 
duction of a scar in the skin, which is faithfully per- 
petuated through life, although the particles of the 
body are repeatedly changed. 

The changes or modifications of the brain sub- 
stance are too small to be detected by the microsci ipe, 
and yet they may notably effect the character and 
make themselves manifest in the countenance. 

There are those who believe that the thoughts 
and actions become so impressed upon the counte- 



CHARACTER: FORMATION— EFFECTS 133 

nance and bearing of the individual that they can 
divine one's employment by them. It is related of 
a certain man that on one occasion he went into a 
room where there were a few men and made the 
remark that he could tell a man's employment by his 
outward appearance; whereupon a certain one of 
them challenged him to make good his statement as 
far as he was concerned. He looked him over and 
said : "You are either a Methodist preacher or a 
horse-trader." It turned out that he was both. 

The expression of the face is due largely to one's 
life and thought. A life of intellectual labor makes 
itself manifest in the wrinkles and otherwise in the 
features; and a life of mental indolence leaves the 
face a blank. It is evident that goodness shines 
through amiable features, and that bulliness produces 
a brutal physiognomy, and that honesty is evinced 
by an open countenance, and meanness by a con- 
tracted one. 

Even one's nationality may be recognized in the 
countenance, which means that the scenery and other 
environments of youth, and other national char- 
acteristics, may impress themselves upon and lie 
reflected in the features. 

If any of the above statements are true, even in 
a slight degree, it makes good our position, that our 
minds do modify our bodies. These things being 
true, it is not difficult to understand how character 
may be transmitted by inheritance; whereas, if the 
mind alone is affected, it is not so easy to see. 

The material changes of which we have spoken, 
and which we have invoked to explain the retentive 
power of memory, and which we will use to explain 
other things, should cut no figure in our religious 
beliefs. For while it shows a more intimate rela- 
tion of mind and body in this life than is generally 
recognized, it signifies nothing as to what may be 
their relation in another life. 

10- 



134 CHARACTER: FORMATION— EFFECTS 

There is a peculiarity in the nervous system, 
which aids in the formation of character or in the 
production of the force of habit, which is much the 
same, and that is, when an impression enters a nerve 
center and departs as an impulse or idea, it leaves 
behind an effect which has a tendency and facility 
to repeat the process ; that is, to react again in the 
same way. On this account a similar impression is 
more likely to take the same course in the brain than 
any other, or than it is to open up a new path. It is 
a path of least resistance. In course of time the 
brain becomes filled with these paths or lines of least 
resistance. It is not improper to speak of the adult 
brain as made of these paths. The main point in the 
matter is that it is easier for an impression, or sensa- 
tion, or wave of nervous influence, to travel a second 
time along one of these lines than at first, and 
becomes easier with each repetition ; and herein lies 
the power of habit. These lines are kept in existence 
by some kind of nutritive change in their course by 
the influence of the nervous wave itself. 

Illustrative of the effect of habit, it is related of 
an old soldier, that one who knew the fact, on one 
occasion sharply exclaimed, "Attention!" when the 
soldier suddenly dropped his hands to his sides, 
letting his dinner — his bread and potatoes — fall in 
the dirt. The fact is, the theory of drilling soldiers, 
or training in any particular, is based on the known 
force of habit. One point not to be lost sight of 
is that the basis of this power is not in the mind only, 
but in the brain itself, and in the nerves and muscles 
of the body. The fingers of the musician, as well 
as his mind, become altered by the everlasting train- 
ing he has to go through. 

If in practical life the youth sets forth with vir- 
tuous considerations, the way becomes easier and 
easier all through. If under vicious considerations, 
it is just the reverse. If temptations are yielded to, 



CHARACTER: FORMATION— EFFECTS 135 

the power of resistance becomes weakened and grows 
less and less with each yielding; whereas, if they are 
resisted, the power of resistance becomes greater 
and greater. 

It is said that a Greek sage, when asked why he 
had punished his son so severely for so trivial an 
offense, replied : "And do you regard habit as 
trivial?" The important thing in a single act is 
that it tends to form a habit, from which similar 
acts afterwards result. The trivial act of the boy 
would have damaged the boy himself. Having 
stolen once, he would have become an habitual thief. 
The first trivial transgression was the first step in 
that direction. No one ever told his first lie intend- 
ing to become a liar, no drunkard ever began as a 
drunkard. 

It is a comfort to see a man who has so long 
practiced the ways of right living that he has become 
confirmed therein by the power of habit, so that there 
is but little danger of his relapsing from such a state, 
because his body, as well as his soul, has been modi- 
fied by such habits. 

Granting that it is true, that material changes 
are wrought in our bodies, what effect would they 
have upon our characters ? It would seem, if the 
body is modified by our experiences, that our brains 
and whole body grows to our habits of thought, feel- 
ing and action, that our bodies would be a part of 
our characters, and that it would give stability to 
them. It may be a novel thought that our bodies 
are a part of our characters, but such seems to be the 
inevitable conclusion. 

Our characters are made up of our life experi- 
ences, and are not the work of a day, and cannot be 
changed in a day. The good man does well largely 
because he has been in the habit of doing well, and 
the bad man acts badly because it is in accordance 
with his second nature. For him to do differently, 



136 CHARACTER: FORMATION— EFFECTS 

and continue to do so, a great deal has to be undone, 
and a different order of things has to be built up. 
His body has to undergo a change. "Can the 
Etheopian change his skin, or the Leopard his spots? 
Then may ye also do good that are accustomed to 
do evil ?" The only trouble with this passage is it 
does not go deep enough. The color of the skin 
and of the spots on it are only skin deep, whereas 
the habits of man are so interwoven into his being 
that they are largely the man himself. 

It is sad to encounter those who are morally 
defective. There are moral imbeciles — persons lack- 
ing in the moral sense. They are generally such by 
inheritance, although great moral perversity may be 
developed by bad practices. 

I will cite an example of moral perversity : A 
gentleman of France has been passing the summer 
at his country house with his daughter, aged twenty- 
two, and his son, aged twenty. From the moment 
of his arrival devastations occurred everywhere on 
his property. The shrubs were cut, garden plants 
and large branches of the birch trees removed, the 
doors and walls of the house were soiled. The 
grounds and dwellings of other persons in the neigh- 
borhood were similarly treated. Windows were 
broken, the walls and doors of the church, the 
priest's house, and even the altar, were soiled. 
Obscene letters containing threats of death were 
received by the priest and others. Terror overspread 
the parish, and no one dare go out by night. At 
last the son and daughter were discovered in their 
acts. The boy confessed his part. The girl denied 
everything, going so far as to send insulting letters 
to the magistrate. 

One benefit of these material changes is thai they 
render actions and thoughts which were difficult at 
first so easy that their performance is nut even 
attended with knowledge u\wu our part. Take walk- 



CHARACTER: FORMATION— EFFECTS 137 

ing, for instance. It is with greatest difficulty that 
a child learns to balance itself and proceed by steps. 
After it is learned, we walk without noticing what 
we are doing; our attention is rarely called to the 
fact that we are walking. The same is true of other 
acts. It is related of a musician who frequently had 
attacks of Epilepsy, which were not attended by fall- 
ing, but were attended by loss of consciousness, that 
he, nevertheless, would play on in the orchestra with 
perfect correctness, although unconscious. 

Among adults you will find one, although speak- 
ing the truth would answer every purpose, neverthe- 
less lies because he is so in the habit of lying that 
it is more natural than to speak the truth. Such per- 
verted characters are to be pitied. The same is true 
of dishonesty — it may become more in keeping with 
one's nature than honesty. 

Take again the injury to character by gossip, 
which may commence in a small way, but grows into 
outrageous proportions without thought or con- 
sciousness of the enormity of the injury inflicted. 

This process of unconscious action extends to 
purely intellectual operations. We endeavor to 
remember a name and fail, we make special efforts 
but still fail ; we dismiss, as we suppose, the matter 
from our minds ; but it seems that the brain works 
away at it until, suddenly, it appears all right. 

When a boy, I remember I had a problem in 
mathematics I could not solve. I worked at it a 
couple of days and gave it up. In a day or so, it 
appeared to my mind divested of all difficulties. 

This shows that our knowledge of the process 
of thinking is not necessary to render it efficient; 
that our thinking may be just as logical when we 
are not paying attention to it. The mind is ever 
active, except when we are asleep, and its activity 
is very little under the direct control of our wills. 
It goes from one subject to another in accordance 



138 CHARACTER: FORMATION— EFFECTS 

with certain laws of the association of ideas, with 
regard to which we may be ignorant. A great part 
of our time is spent in this sort of thinking. Now 
and then we are aroused to consciousness and attend 
for a moment to what we are thinking about, but 
soon lapse again into our unconscious way of drift- 
ing. Thus day after day passes, with only occa- 
sional periods of consciousness of the process we 
are going through. 

The benefit of our having established characters 
is that our unconscious thinking will be in keeping 
with those characters, and that there is no danger 
of our going astray in those moods. 

Whether any one believes the contents of this 
paper or not is a matter of no great consequence, 
as the main point in it is that our characters modify 
the body. At the same time, it is a matter of com- 
fort to those who do believe, for it helps to explain 
the value of a good character. 



Character, and Happiness as a Result 

As character is one of the few things here on 
earth worth living for, it behooves us to study it 
most carefully. We will first take up the cause of 
character. "It may be taken for granted that almost 
everybody has a character," so says one, "be the 
same more or less good, bad or indifferent, as the 
case may be. The exception, in fact, need only be 
made in favor of imbecile persons and idiots, who 
usually possess no character at all to speak of, or 
whose character is at least of a decidedly negative 
and uninteresting kind. And, furthermore, roughly 
speaking, no two characters are ever absolutely 
identical. The range of peculiarity is practically 
infinite. To be sure, there are some large classes 
of mankind so utterly commonplace and similar that 
from casual acquaintance it is hard to distinguish 
the individuality of one of them from that of the 
other." 

Yet no two human beings on this earth, not 
even twins, are so utterly and absolutely alike that 
those who have known them familiarly for years 
fail to distinguish one from the other. The prob- 
lem of this difference or peculiarity has for each of 
us a personal interest, and importance as well, for 
each of us wishes naturally to know how and why 
he happened to come by his own charming and 
admirable character. Let us see how far we can 
gain any light from the doctrine of heredity on this 
curious question of the origin of character. 

If persons of different color marry, their chil- 



140 CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS 

dren will be of color between the two — a sort of 
compromise. If the father be white and the mother 
black, the children will be mulattoes. Here, then, 
we have a clear physical and almost mathematically 
demonstrable case, showing that, so far as bodily 
peculiarities, at least, are concerned, the child is, on 
the average, just equally compounded of traits 
derived from both parents. This simple fact, I 
venture to think, gives us at once the real key to 
the whole complex problem of peculiarity of char- 
acter. Every child, on the average, represents one- 
half its father and one-half its mother. Here it 
takes after its grandfather, the earl, and there it 
resembles its grandmother, the washer-woman. 

"How does it happen, then," suggests one, "that 
two brothers or two sisters, born of the same par- 
ents — twins it may even be — are often more unlike 
each other in character and mental qualities than 
any two ordinary strangers?" Well, the answer 
simply is : It doesn't happen. "Make sure of your 
facts before you begin to philosophize upon them. 
Children of the same parents are always very much 
like one another in all essential fundamentals. They 
may differ a good deal among themselves, but their 
differences are really and truly as nothing com- 
pared with the vast complexity of their resem- 
blances." 

Mr. Galton has collected an immense mass of 
evidence tending to show that, just as twins usually 
resemble one another, almost indistinguishably, in 
face and feature, so do they resemble one another 
almost as narrowly in character and intellect. There 
is such a thing as peculiarity, and 'the reason for its 
existence is a very simple one. Each separate 
human being, it is true, is, on the average, an equal 
compound of his father and his mother, his grand- 
fathers and grandmothers; but not necessarily, or 
even probably, the same compound. Father and 



CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS Ul 

mother have each in their lineal myriads of traits, 
both mental and physical, any one of which may 
equally happen to be handed down to any of their 
children. And the traits handed down from each 
may not happen to be by any means always the same 
in the same family. This child may resemble the 
father in this, and that child in that. In reality, 
when we come to examine closely, we see that no 
single feature, even, owes everything absolutely to 
one parent only. Not a feature of the face that is 
not at bottom, in one point or another, like to both 
its ancestries; not a shade of expression that does 
not recall in varying degrees some mingled traits 
of either parent. 

It is just the same in mental matters. There are 
family characters and family intelligences, as there 
are family faces and family figures. Each individ- 
ual member of the brood has its own variety of this 
typical character. Why is it, then, that most people 
won't admit their own essential unity and identity 
of character with their brothers and their sisters, 
their cousins and their aunts? Vanity; vanity; 
pure human vanity, is at the bottom of all their vio- 
lent reluctance ! Every man flatters himself at heart 
that he possesses an immense number of admirable 
traits not found in any other and inferior members 
of his own family. The fact is, if we want impar- 
tially to discuss this question of character, we must 
each leave our own supernaturally beautiful char- 
acter out of the question, and think only of the 
vastly inferior and ordinary characters of other 
people. Examined from this impartial and object- 
ive point of view, then, other families beside our 
own, show us at once how much light may be cast 
upon the origin of character by the study of fath- 
ers and mothers, brothers and sisters, first and sec- 
ond cousins, and so forth. 

"If character results in the way I say it does," 



142 CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS 

so says one, "then it will follow that, mentally and 
physically, twins will bear more resemblance one 
to another than ordinary brothers and sisters do." 

I will cite a couple of examples which bear out 
this conclusion : 

"In one case, a couple of twins — men — had a 
quarrel over a perfectly unimportant matter. They 
came to very high words and parted from one 
another in bad blood. On returning to their rooms 
(they lived apart), each of them suffered from a fit 
of remorse, and sat down to write a letter of con- 
trition to the other, to be delivered by the morning 
post. After writing it, one brother read his letter 
over and, recalling the cause of the quarrel, added 
at once a long postscript, justifying himself, and 
reopening the whole question at issue. The other 
brother posted his note at once, but, thinking the 
matter over quietly afterwards, regretted his action 
again, and supplemented by a second epistle, almost 
unsaying what he had said in the first one." 

The other story relates to a fact which happened 
not to twins, but to two successive brothers, 
extremely like one another in build and features, 
and evidently modeled in mind and character in 
the same mould. "They met a lady dressed in blue, 
whom they had never seen before, at a military 
dance. Each of them asked at once to be introduced 
to her at first sight; each asked the same officer for 
an introduction (though they had several friends 
in common present) ; each described her in the same 
way, not as the lady in blue, but as the lady with 
the beautiful ears; each fell desperately in love 
with her off-hand; and each asked for a particular 
flower out of a little bouquet containing four or live 
more conspicuous blossoms. Finally, each came up 
at the end of the evening to confide in the same 
married lady of their acquaintance their desire to 
see more of the beautiful stransrer." 



CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS 143 

For most of the above facts I am indebted to 
an article published in Cornhill Magazine. As the 
facts are doubtless true, I have compiled and repro- 
duced them. 

Hitherto we have given attention to heredity 
and its effects upon character. M'any think that 
heredity is almost everything, and it is certainly a 
great deal, for it is a hard matter to change or 
eradicate traits that are born in one. Herbert 
Spencer admitted that he possessed some undesir- 
able traits of character, which he inherited, such as 
impatience, intollerance, fault-finding and ^sub- 
mission. It seems that because he inherited these 
traits, he regarded it as useless to try and improve 
upon them; anyway, there is no record of his try- 
ing to so improve; he preferred to let them have 
free possession of the field. 

It is evident that man is not an individual only, 
but a member of a large family — the human fam- 
ily — and that it is incumbent on him to so regulate 
his character that it will harmonize with his fellows. 
In other words, he must develop a moral nature. 
He must learn what conduct on his part will be 
beneficial, and what will be injurious to others, and 
learn to practice the one and avoid the other. 

This knowledge of good and evil improves, so 
that there is a great difference between the enlight- 
ened conscience of the civilized man and the savage. 
Like most other things, its difficulties lie at the 
beginning, and it is by steady practice that it passes 
into an instinctive nature. It is doubtless true, the 
power of man to change and improve his character 
is a limited one, but on the whole the improvement 
of character is probably more within his reach than 
intellectual improvement. Time and opportunity 
are wanting to most men for any considerable intel- 
lectual study, and even were it otherwise, every man 
will find large tracts of knowledge and thought 



144 CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS 

wholly external to his tastes, aptitudes and compre- 
hension. But every one can in some measure learn 
the lesson of self-sacrifice, practice what is right, 
correct, or at least mitigate, his dominant faults. 
What fine examples of self-sacrifice, quiet courage, 
resignation in misfortune, patient performance of 
painful duty, magnanimity and forgiveness under 
injury may be often found among those who are 
intellectually the most commonplace. One of the 
most important lessons that experience teaches is 
that in the great majority of cases success in life 
depends more on character than on either intellect 
or fortune. What we need for our ideal in this 
world and all worlds is character, organized and 
consecrated to human and heroic ends — the spirit 
that turns from the common greed to the common 
good. 

HAPPINESS 

"One of the first questions that must naturally 
come to every writer," says Mr. Lecky, "who deals 
with character, is what influence mere discussion 
and reasoning can have in promoting the happiness 
of men." The circumstances of our lives, and the 
dispositions of our character, mainly determine the 
measure of happiness we enjoy, and more about 
the causes of happiness and unhappiness can do 
little to effect them. It is impossible to obtain any 
serious knowledge of the world without perceiving 
that a large proportion of the happiest lives and 
characters are to be found where introspection, self- 
analysis and reasoning about the good and evil of 
life hold the smallest place. Happiness, indeed, like 
health, is one of the things of which men rarely 
think, except when it is impaired, and much that 
has been written on the subject has been written 
under the stress of some great depression. Such 
writers are like the man in 1 la^artli's picture. OCCU- 



CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS 145 

pying himself in the debtor's prison with plans for 
the payment of the national debt. 

Man comes into the world with mental and 
moral characteristics which he can only very imper- 
fectly influence, and a large proportion of the 
external circumstances of his life lie wholly or 
mainly beyond his control. At the same time, 
every one recognizes the power of skill, industry 
and perseverance to modify surrounding circum- 
stances; the power of temperance and prudence to 
strengthen a naturally weak constitution, prolong 
life and diminish the chances of disease; the power 
of education and private study to develop, sharpen 
and employ to the best advantage our intellectual 
faculites. Every one also recognizes how large a 
part of the unhappiness of most men may be directly 
traced to their own voluntary and deliberate acts. 
The power each man possesses in the education and 
management of his character, and especially in the 
cultivation of his dispositions and tendencies which 
most largely contribute to happiness, is less recog- 
nized and is perhaps extensive, but is not less real. 

Men continually forget that happiness is a con- 
dition of mind and not a disposition of circum- 
stances, and one of the most common errors is that 
of confusing happiness with the means of happiness, 
sacrificing the first for the attainment of the second. 
It is the error of the miser, who begins by seeking 
money for the enjoyment it procures, and ends by 
making the mere acquisition of money his sole 
object, pursuing it to the sacrifice of all rational 
ends and pleasures. Circumstances and character 
both contribute to happiness, but the proportionate 
attention paid to one or other of these great depart- 
ments not only varies largely with different indi- 
viduals, but also with different nations and different 
ages. 

Some systems of philosophy look mainly to the 



146 CHARACTER AXD HAPPINESS 

formation of dispositions. Stoicism is the most con- 
spicuous of these. The paradox of the stoic, that 
good and evil are so entirely from within that to a 
wise man all external circumstances are indifferent, 
represents this view of life in its extreme form. Its 
more moderate form can hardly be better expressed 
than in the saying of Dugald Stewart, that "the 
great secret of happiness is to study to accommodate 
our own minds to things external rather than to 
accommodate things external to ourselves." 

On the other hand, the tendency of those 
philosophers which treat man — his opinions and his 
character — essentially as the result of circumstances, 
and which aggrandize the influence of the external 
world upon mankind is, in the opposite direction, 
very pronounced. And the same tendency will be 
naturally found in the most active industrial and 
progressive nations; where life is very full and 
busy ; where its competitions are most keen ; where 
scientific discoveries are rapidly multiplying pleas- 
ures and diminishing pains; where town life, with 
its constant hurry and change, is the most promi- 
nent. In such spheres men naturally incline to seek 
happiness from without rather than from within, or, 
in other words, to seek it, much less by acting 
directly on the mind and character than through 
the indirect method of improved circumstances. 

English character on both sides of the Atlantic 
is eminently a character in which thoughts, inter- 
ests and emotions are most habitually thrown on 
that which is without. Introspection and self- 
analysis are not congenial to it. The whole tone of 
society forms it. 

In times of great sorrow, a degree of shame is 
attached to demonstrations of grief which in other 
countries would be deemed perfectly natural. The 
disposition to dilate upon and perpetuate an old 
grief by protracted mournings, by carefully 



CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS 147 

observed anniversaries, by long periods of retire- 
ment from the world, is much less common than 
on the continent, and is certainly diminishing. 
Improved conduct and improved circumstances are, 
to an English mind, the chief and almost only meas- 
ures of progress. 

That this tendency is, on the whole, a healthy 
one for the part that circumstances play in the 
formation of our characters is, indeed, very mani- 
fest, and it is a humiliating truth that among these 
circumstances mere bodily conditions which we 
share with the animals holds a foremost place. 

In the long run, and to the great majority of 
men health is probably the most important of all 
the elements of happiness. Acute physical suffering 
or shattered health will more than counterbalance 
the best gifts of fortune. At the same time we 
should not fail to note the fact that the habit which 
so often grows upon men with slight chronic mala- 
dies or feeble temperament or idle lives, of making 
their own health and their own ailments the most 
constant subject of their thoughts, soon becomes 
a disease very fatal to happiness and positively 
injurious to health. "I firmly believe," says one, 
"that half of the confirmed invalids of the day 
could be cured of their maladies if they were com- 
pelled to live busy and active lives and had no time 
to fret over their miseries. One of the most seduc- 
tive and mischievous errors in self-management is 
the practice of giving way to interia, weakness and 
depression. Those who desire to live should settle 
this well in their minds, that nerve power is the 
force of life, and that the will has a wonderously 
strong and direct influence over the body through 
the brain and the nervous system." 

One of the first and most clearly recognized 
rules to be observed is that happiness is most likely 
to be attained when it is not the direct object of pur- 



148 CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS 

suit. An ideal life should be furnished with abund- 
ant work that brings with it much interest. The 
first great rule is that we must do something — life 
must have a purpose and an aim — that work should 
be not merely occasional and spasmodic, but steady 
and continuous. Pleasure is a jewel which will 
only retain its luster when it is in a setting of work, 
and a vacant life is one of the worst pains. 

Another great truth is that a wise man will 
make it his aim rather to avoid suffering than to 
attain pleasure. The conscious and deliberate pur- 
suit of pleasure is attended by many deceptions and 
illusions, and rarely leads to lasting happiness. But 
we can do very much by prudence, self-restraint and 
intelligent regulation so to manage life as to avoid 
a large proportion of its calamities, and at the 
same time, by preserving the affections pure and 
undimmed, by diversifying interests and forming 
active habits, to combat its tedium and despondency. 
It would probably be found, upon examination, that 
most men who have devoted lives successfully to 
great labors and ambitions, and who have received 
the most splendid gifts from Fortune have, never- 
theless, found their chief pleasure in things uncon- 
nected with their main pursuit, and generally within 
the reach of common men. Domestic pleasures, 
pleasures of scenery, pleasures of reading, pleasures 
of travel or of sport have been the highest enjoy- 
ment of men of great intellect, wealth and position. 

"Though the close relationship that subsists 
between morals and happiness is universally 
acknowledged, I do not belong to the school," says 
Mr. Lecky, whom I am quoting, "which believes 
that pleasure and pain, either actually anticipated, 
are the only motives by which the human will can 
be governed; that virtue resolves itself ultimately 
into well-considered interests and finds its ultimate 
interest and finds its ultimate reason in the happi- 



CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS 149 

ness of those who practice it; that all our virtues 
end in self-love, as the rivers in the sea." This is 
making virtue too much of a selfish thing. It makes 
self-interest too much the criterion of right and 
wrong. For such reasons as these I believe it to be 
impossible to identify virtue with happiness. Even 
when the connection is most close between virtue 
and pleasure, it is true, as the old Stoics said, "that, 
though virtue gives pleasure, this is not the reason 
why a good man will practice it; that pleasure is 
the companion, and not the guide of his life ; that he 
does not love virtue because it gives pleasure, but it 
gives pleasure because he loves it." 

The latter part of this paper has been compiled 
largely from the writings of Mr. Lecky, of Eng- 
land. 

u- 



Causes of Happiness 

There are men and women who have through 
life, and by some fortunate heredity of constitution, 
supplemented by cares of an individual kind, gone 
through long trying eventful careers with perfection 
of happiness. Joseph Priestly was one of these for- 
tunates. "I was born," says he, "of a happy dis- 
position." And so this man, through a life of 
struggle and tempest such as few men have known, 
was ever in happiness. In his child-life, he loses 
his mother. He leaves his home, and is domiciled 
by his aunt whose gloomy tenets would drive some 
natures to the deepest melancholy. He passes 
through severe changes of thought on solemn sub- 
jects. He becomes a preacher, but owing to a 
defect of speech cannot display an eloquence he 
knows is in him, and tossed from pulpit to pulpit, 
penniless, is forced to teach that he may live. He 
becomes half friend, half librarian of a nobleman, 
by whom he is petted at first, and then, with the 
capreciousness of power, is turned off as a once- 
favored dog might be, without a word of explana- 
tion. He makes one of the grandest discoveries of 
the century and lives to see it accredited to another 
man to whom he communicated it in the most open 
manner. Suspected of sympathizing with children 
of liberty, he becomes, under the vengeance of a 
vulgar priest, the victim of an ignorance, which 
burns his house and all his precious papers, and he 
escapes barely with his life. Coming to London, lie 
is obliged to hide from enmity, and (crudest cut 

150 



CAUSES OF HAPPINESS 151 

of all) is disowned by and cast out of the learned 
society, whose work he has helped to immortalize. 
At last, driven in his old age from his native coun- 
try, he goes to a foreign and distant land, forgiving 
every one, to die there in perfect peace. 

Such changes as these, such oppressions through 
every stage of life, would kill an ordinary man. 
Yet here was a man who went through every phase 
of suffering with happiness. He personally explains 
the reason : "I was born with a happy disposition." 

We gather from such instances as these (rare, 
it is true, but reliable,) that in the range of physical 
life there is a happiness due to heredity; to some 
combinations of ancestry which, being repeated, 
would lead to the birth of an almost new race, 
amongst which Priestly' s own desire — "the great- 
est good for the greatest number"— would be the 
common blessing. 

There is another proof of happiness which comes 
within the knowledge of the majority of mankind, 
although it is not universal. This proof consists of 
a sensation felt of happiness, which often in conse- 
quence of its abruptness and sharp contrast with 
what has gone before, so that the event is often 
recalled and often expected with anticipation. At 
such moments the actual cares of the world sit 
lightly. The impossible a short time before becomes 
the possible or the easy. Dark forebodings which 
have pressed almost to despair pass away, and the 
future is roseate with prospect. There are few who 
have not experienced this curious change toward 
happiness. 

If happiness can be obtained for one day, for 
one hour, why not for all days, for all hours? 
Common folk call it lightness of spirit, light-heart- 
edness, being lifted up above the common fate of 
daily oppression and daily sorrow. 

"The symptoms of happiness it is desirable to 



152 CAUSES OF HAPPINESS 

to know. In the wake of happiness, the pulse is 
regular, tonic, free ; the breathing is natural ; the 
eye is bright and clear; the countenance, even in 
age, is youthful ; the appetites are keen, but orderly ; 
the judgment is sound, but joyous; the muscular 
bearing is firm, steady; there is no indication of 
carrying a load on the back, or of oppressive sinking 
exhaustion." 

I will pass to the thought of how to extend this 
state — a thought which, according to my view, is 
eminently practical. To arrive at the idea of the 
mode of working in this direction, we cannot do 
better than survey, in the first place, the conditions 
under which the phenomena of happiness and its 
counterpart — depression or unhappiness — are mani- 
fested. By a sort of general impression, the weather 
is believed to exert a peculiar influence for and 
against the phenomena of happiness. In this view 
there is some undoubted truth ; an increase of the 
atmospheric pressure, which we have when the 
smoke of the chimney rises, and a decrease which 
we have when the smoke fails to rise, but settles 
near the earth, is each a cause of happiness or 
otherwise. In ascending from valleys to moderate 
heights, there is, up to a certain distance, a distinct 
effect of this kind. "So definite is the action that 
I know," says Dr. Richardson, "of one person who, 
under some conditions, feels that life is a load too 
hard to bear, but who in a dry, bright, mountain 
region throws off the despair altogether and lives 
a new life. 

In the nicely adjusted balance of atmospheric 
pressure against animal circulation of blood, the 
circulation is relieved by a moderate removal of 
pressure. The brightness of mind induced by 
removal of pressure and free circulation is. how- 
ever, subject to other conditions. Dryness must 



CAUSES OP HAPPINESS 153 

accompany lightness of air to produce the condition 
favorable to happiness. 

There are electrical conditions of the atmosphere 
during which happiness contrasts strongly and 
strangely with the depression incident to other con- 
ditions. 

How the dryness of the air, peculiar to our cli- 
mate as distinguished from that of Europe, excites 
nervousness, and thereby affects happiness, is of the 
highest practical interest. In regard to the electrical 
scate of a dry atmosphere, this general fact is quite 
clear : that the electricity which is found in all states 
of the atmosphere is less easily and uniformly dif- 
fused, and more liable to various disturbances 
through inequalities of tension, when the air is dry 
than when it is moist. Moisture conducts electricity, 
and an atmosphere well charged with moisture, other 
conditions being the same, will tend to keep the elec- 
tricity in a state of equilibrium, since it allows free 
and ready conduction of it at all times and in all 
directions. Hence it does not accumulate in certain 
localities as electric clouds, as they are called, and 
give rise to certain minor discharges, to the great 
annoyance of human beings. The human body, 
therefore, when surrounded by a moist atmosphere, 
never has its own electrical condition seriously dis- 
turbed, nor is it liable to sudden and frequent disturb- 
ances from the want of equilibrium in the air in 
which it moves. 

Mr. Hingeston, of Brighton, England, has very 
beautifully connected these varying states of atmos- 
phere and these varying states of mind with cloud- 
land. He sees in the clouds the outward and visible 
signs of the mental state in the large and white- 
headed masses that collect in clear bright days, 
indicating storms of hail, rain and thunder, and 
that gyrate from left to right. On the approach of 
one of these masses of vapor, the mercury of the 



154 CAUSES OF H APPLY ES^ 

barometer first falls and then rises with great 
rapidity. The accompanying and residual state of 
the atmosphere is congenial to health. The favorable 
reaction of the mind is serene and happy. The air 
in these moments is antagonistic of disease. With 
the breaking up and dissolving of these large masses 
of clouds, there is electric action. The entire atmos- 
phere changes. Everything is dull and gray. The 
so-called dyspepsia prevails, the acid indigestion of 
gouty habits reveals itself. So that clouds may be 
considered not only picturesque beauties in the land- 
scape, but also as criterions for judging of some of 
the most potent effects resulting from the operation 
of an experiment silently and delicately performed 
upon the functions and sensations of animated 
beings. 

Cold and heat play different parts in the produc- 
tion and reduction of happiness. A dry and sharp 
cold wave exerts a gentle pressure on the surface of 
the body, which fills the nervous centers with blood 
and helps to felicity of mind. A long and piercing 
easterly, chilling wind checks circulation, robs heat, 
and produces even melancholic sadness. A dry, 
genial warmth acts like a bracing cold. A long 
warmth, with moisture, checks the vital action and 
produces a degree of depression which may be as 
intense as that which is induced by prolonged 
exposure to cold. 

The seasons of the year which are attended with 
least exhaustion of the body are those which favor 
happiness. When the exhaustion of the winter and 
depressing spring months has been removed by the 
warmth of a genial summer and autumn, the time 
is most favorable for serenity of mind. On the 
other hand, the exhaustion of winter and spring 
induces depression, and is no doubt the cause of 
that melancholy which rentiers the months of spring 
the maximum periods of death by suicide. 



CAUSES OF HAPPINESS 155 

Purity of the atmosphere is an unquestionable 
aid to happiness. The comparison of children liv- 
ing under different circumstances is sufficient proof 
of this fact. The children of an open, well-venti- 
lated school-room — how different are they from 
those who are immured in some of the close, over- 
packed dens which are called school-rooms ! Com- 
pare the felicity of the children of the well-to-do 
who live out of doors with that of the children of 
the small trader, whose back parlor is living-room 
and play-ground; or the happiness of the man or 
woman who leads an out-door life with that of those 
who live in the close office or work-room. 

There are still other agencies which bring or 
check human happiness, and which are as purely 
physical in character as those above recorded. There 
are substances which, taken into the body, produce 
strange contrasts in respect to happiness and depres- 
sion. Foods well cooked, foods carefully selected, 
foods supplied in sufficient quantity to sustain the 
body equally in all its parts, and so moderate as 
never to oppress the nervous digestive powers, all 
conduce to happiness in the most telling manner. 

As a rule, all agents which stimulate, that is to 
say, relax the arterial tension, and so allow the 
blood freer course through the organs, for a time 
promote happiness, but in the reaction leave depres- 
sion. Tea has this effect. It causes a short and 
slight felicity. It causes, in a large number of per- 
sons, a long and severe and painful sadness. There 
are many who never know a day of happiness owing 
to this one destroying cause. 

There is another agent more determinate in its 
effects, and that is wine. Wine maketh the heart 
glad, but the reaction from it is of the bitterest of 
human sufferings. The whole of the narcotic series 
of substances, in the use of which human beings 



156 CAUSES OF HAPPINESS 

indulge in order to secure felicity, comes under the 
same condemnation as the two last-named agents. 
The habitual use of opium for the desire of happi- 
ness is of the same erroneous character. The opium 
smoker, the opium eater, tell us of certain dreams 
and phantasies which are for a moment felicitous 
wanderings of the mind; then he falls into abjec- 
tion, which deepens and deepens until the desire to 
return to the cause of the dejection is too over- 
powering to be resisted. 

I have dwelt thus far on influences of a purely 
physical kind in their relation to happiness. I must 
pass from these to a consideration of influences of 
a different nature. In touching on this side of our 
subject, the question of hereditary constitution 
comes prominently into view. 

There are some constitutional differences deter- 
mined by temperament which are of first import- 
ance. Of the four primary temperaments — the san- 
guine, the nervous, the bilious, the lymphatic — and 
of their relation to happiness, a volume might be 
written. I must here be content to record as a 
general fact that in the earlier days of life, the san- 
guine is the happier temperament, but not the most 
sustained ; that the dark or billious is the least happy 
in early life, but is often, in time, rendered very 
serene ; that the nervous yields a varying condition, 
full of ups and downs ; that the lymphatic, or white- 
blooded temperament, is by a negative effect the 
most even. 

The moral influences and impressions affecting 
these natures are, from first to last, potent on most 
of the temperaments. In childhood, the future his- 
tory of the happy or unhappy after-life is usually 
written. 

As a rule, the tendency to happiness or the 
opposite is planted. 



CAUSES OF HAPPINESS 157 

Let me, as bearing on these matters of thought, 
not diverge, but encourage, to our present study by 
a reference to the position of happiness as a physio- 
logical quality in life. Of the two natures with 
which man is endowed, and which, by the duality, 
distinguish him from the lower creation — the pure 
animal and the pure intellectual natures — happiness 
belongs to his animal nature. 

Happiness and misery are the signs of his still 
animal character. Happiness, in short, is not an 
intellectual faculty at all; it is not seated in the 
brain. It is not a quality which a man can think 
himself into, or reason himself into, or directly will 
himself into. It is, like the beating of his heart 
and the circulation of his blood, a vital process, 
going on indenepdently of his volition. 

Happiness and its counterpart are not intel- 
lectual faculties, neither are they passions, neither 
have they any direct relationship to physical pain. 
They are distinct from intellect, passion or physical 
pain. They are the only true emotions. The man 
who is destitute altogether of happiness is not of 
necessity deficient in intellectual power, or destitute 
of passion, or more or less sensitive to pain than 
any one else. The most intellectual may be the most 
miserable; the most silly and inconsequent may be 
the most blest with happiness. 

"The worst instance of extreme, I may say, truly 
harrowing, misery I ever saw" says one, "was in 
one of judicial mind, whose clearness and calmness 
of judgment was a subject of general admiration, 
but who never, he told me, had known (notwith- 
standing his eminent success) in all his life an hour 
of happiness." 

"The man most replete with happiness I ever 
knew," so says the same author, "was one who was 



158 CAUSES OF HAPPINESS 

endowed with no intellectual supremacy, and who 
was all through a long life a veritable child." 

"The center of the emotion of happiness is not 
in the brain," so says Dr. Richardson. "The center 
is in the vital nervous system, in the great ganglia 
of the sympathetic, lying not in the skull or back- 
bone, but in the great cavities of the body near the 
stomach and near the heart. We know where the 
glow which indicates happiness is felt; our poets 
have described it with perfect truthfulness as in the 
breast; it comes as a fire kindling there. No living 
being ever felt happy in the head. Everybody who 
has been happy has felt it from within the body. 

"We know, again, where the depression of mis- 
ery is located. The man who is ever miserable is a 
'hypochondiac' His affection is below the ribs. 
No man ever felt miserable in the head. He is 
broken-hearted ; he is bent down, and his shoulders 
feel oppressed by a weight." 

I will now invite your attention to another set 
of influences : I notice, in the first place, that happi- 
ness is always increased by sufficiency of rest and 
sleep. Those who sleep in childhood and old age 
ten hours, in adolescence nine, and in middle age 
eight hours, soundly, out of twenty-four are mostly 
well favored with the blessing. I put sleep in the 
first place as an aid to happiness because it is the 
first. I have no knowledge of any instance in which 
a person who slept well was altogether devoid of 
happiness. The beneficent action of sleep in regard 
to happiness is, however, indirect. It is due to the 
physical and mental strength which it confers on 
those it favors. 

Strength of body secures happiness. Persons 
comparatively weak of mind may, with good 
physique be happy, hut very few who are weak of 
body have any long tastes of happiness. We may 



CAUSES OF HAPPINESS 159 

take it all around that the feeble of all ages are 
unhappy. It is a matter of common observation 
that persons who are so unfortunate as to be born 
deformed of body, though the defect be concealed 
or hidden, are not blessed with happiness. It is the 
bad health as the rooted cause of the defect which 
tells. Any sign of inherited weakness is an equal 
sign of absent happiness, though it be no marked 
hpysical defect. 

Cardanus observed that persons who, from early 
life, showed very large and prominent veins, and 
thereby a languid circulation of blood are never 
happ)r, while those of well-knit body are. The 
observation is perfect. Physicians know that a slug- 
gish circulation is incompatible with happiness, and 
that they who show this indication are amongst the 
most depressed. When the circulation is sluggish 
the liver is sluggish and the brain is sluggish and the 
nervous centers are depressed. 

"When the sun of life is high, 
All is bright; 
When the sun of life is low, 

All is night. 
Thus we laugh and thus we sigh — 
Light and shade where'er we go." 

Physical work, when it is carried to an extent 
short of exhaustion, keeps up happiness, and sloth 
destroys it. But the physical work that exhausts 
kills happiness. The argument extends to mental 
work. Moderate, wholesome, mental work is the 
best of all aids to happiness. Next to sleep, it 
strengthens the mind, it softens grief, and soothes 
care. Carried to excess it is pernicious and destroys 
all happiness. 

I have striven so far to indicate what may be 
called the physiological bearings of the subject. In 
these respects, happiness stands precisely in the same 



160 CAUSES OF HAPPINESS 

position as health ; in the widest sense means health, 
and is another word for health. Health, like happi- 
ness, is born, is made and unmade by external 
agencies, which as yet are out of human control. 
Health resembles happiness, also that it depends on 
the good working of the animal system of life. 

Twenty-five years ago the above sentiments were 
advanced by Dr. Benjamin Ward Richardson, from 
whose writings I have compiled this paper, as these 
views are true today. 



Some Elements of Happiness 

Although the pursuit of happiness is not the 
highest motive that could animate our breasts, still it 
is as natural for man to seek it as it is for the sparks 
to fly upward or the streams to flow downward. 
Hence it behooves us to analyse it, and see if it 
does not afford elements we can be governed by 
in the pursuit of it. 

"One of the elements of happiness is gayety of 
life," so says Agnes Repplier. "When our share 
of gayety is running pitifully low and the sparks of 
joy are dying on life's hearth, we have no courage 
to laugh down the voices of those who wilfully list- 
ing in sadness speak but the truths of sadness." 

Mr. Robert Louis Stevenson gladly acknowl- 
edged his gratitude to people who set him smiling, 
when they came his way, or who smiled themselves 
from sheer cheerfulness of heart. They never knew 
how far they helped him on his road, but he knew, 
and has thanked them in words not easily forgotten : 
"There is no duty we so much underrate as the duty 
of being happy." By being happy we sow benefits 
upon the world, which remain unknown to our- 
selves, or when they are disclosed surprise nobody 
so much as ourselves. 

A happy man or woman is a radiating focus of 
good will, and their entrance into a room is as 
though another gas jet had been lighted. There is 
little doubt that the somewhat indiscriminate admir- 
ation lavished upon Mr. Stephenson himself was 
due less to his literary than to his personal qualities. 



162 SOME ELEMENTS OF HAPPINESS 

People loved him not because he was an admirable 
writer, but because he was a cheerful consumptive. 
He was a sufferer who for many years increased the 
gayety of life. Genius alone can do this on a large 
scale; but everybody can do it on a little one. 

Our safest guide is the realization of a hard 
truth — that we are not privileged to share our 
troubles with other people. If we could make up 
our minds to spare our friends all details of ill 
health, of money losses, of domestic annoyances, of 
altercations, of committee work, of grievances, 
provocations, and anxieties, we should sin less 
against the world's good humor. On the other hand, 
I would say, when it does one good to tell his trou- 
bles to a friend and thereby divides them, as it were, 
and does the friend good to hear them and lessen 
them by sympathizing with us, it may be right to 
tell them, but when we know, if we reflect, that it 
would make them feel badly, it is not proper to 
inflict them on others. 

It may not be given us to add to the treasury of 
mirth, but there is considerable merit in not robbing 
it. I have read the most objectionable thing in the 
American manner is excessive cheerfulness, and 
would like to believe that so pardonable a fault is 
the worst we have to show. 

It is not our mission to depress, and this recalls 
with some satisfaction St. Simon's remark against 
Madame de Maintenon, whom he certainly did not 
love. Courtiers wondered at the enduring charm 
which this middle-aged woman, neither handsome 
nor witty, had for her royal husband. St. Simon 
held the clew. It was her decorous gayety which 
soothed Louis' tired heart. "She so governed her 
humors that at all times and under all circumstances 
she preserved her cheerfulness of demeanor." 

Here we are in a world which holds much pain 
and mam- pleasures; oceans of tears and echoes of 



SOME ELEMENTS OE HAPPINESS 163 

laughter. Our position is not without dignity 
because we can endure; and not without enjoyment 
because we can be merry. To reckon dangers too 
curiously, to hearken too intently for the thread that 
runs through all the winning music of the world, 
to hold back the hand from the rose because of the 
thorn, and from life because of death; this is to 
introduce many an unhappy moment and to repell 
many a joyous one. 

A quick sense of humor is surely one of the 
happiest of mortal possessions. It saves a man 
from many a bitter fall consequent upon his taking 
life and himself too seriously. He who has learned 
to laugh at himself is a near neighbor at happiness. 
Humor also illuminates for us the crankiness and 
eccentricities of our neighbors so that we are 
attracted by them rather than repelled. It is the 
source of that joyous spirit of tolerance which is a 
necessary condition of happiness. 

For many of the above observations I am 
indebted to Miss Repplier. 

Friendship is another element of happiness 
deserving comment. The pleasures of friendship 
none question. Life without friends or social 
enjoyment would scarcely be worth living. Friends 
we need to sympathize with us in sickness and dis- 
tress. At the same time there are limitations to 
friendship growing out of the nature of things. 
Friendship implies a similarity, mental and moral, 
between friends; there is no agreeable affiliation 
between persons of unlike characters. The honest 
man has but little regard for a dishonest one, the 
sober-sided one for a drunkard. There must be 
some similarity between them to be any congenial- 
ity. Friendliness is largely a matter of original 
endowment. Some are born with friendly disposi- 
tions. Where they are not, it is a difficult matter 
to remedy it. A matter of comfort to the unfriendly 



164 SOME ELEMENTS OF HAPPINESS 

is that many of those born with an unusually 
friendly or jovial disposition are frequently not 
good for much else. If I were going to choose a 
pup even, I would select one that was a little shy 
and stood aloof before making friends with others. 
Generally a dog that makes friends with everybody 
or dog that comes along is no good for much else. 

Again, friendship implies the taking of others 
into our privacy and confidence, which is a risky 
business proposition in this world, where we have 
to struggle for existence. In animals that hunt in 
packs, each must have by nature perfect confidence 
in all others, otherwise the chase would be spoiled ; 
but among men, pursuits are so numerous and com- 
petition so great and character so diverse, that we 
cannot rely on one another. We are gregarious 
only to a limited extent. There is a limit to our 
friendliness. 

Again, men's characters change. Those that are 
friendly now by reason of mental and moral likeness 
may not in a period of years be alike. And we may 
be the ones that have changed. It has been said in 
substance : If persons representing different periods 
of their lives were to meet, it would not be a friendly 
meeting ; they would not have much affection for 
each other, and would want to part as soon as pos- 
sible. When we reflect that we change and that our 
friends change, and that it is not likely that we 
should change in the same respect, the wonder is that 
friends should remain such any great length of time. 
Friends should remember, then, that they may 
become enemies. Why, then, should we pine for a 
multitude of friends, particularly as a few enjoy 
themselves together better than a crowd. If we 
have social qualities, wc will have friends; if not, 
the effort to get them will be but poorly repaid, for 
our sociability will have an artificial or false ring 
about it that will be a dead give-away. 



SOME ELEMENTS OF HAPPINESS 165 

Friends we need. We need to hear the human 
voice. We need some one to listen to us. The 
pleasure we receive from the flow of conversation 
and the interchange of ideas is not fully appreciated. 
We need friends, not to make us more law-abiding 
or more religious, or better people in any way, but 
to make us happy. Most persons have not the time 
to spare to entertain a multitude of friends. 

Giving our time to the happiness of others is a 
worthy object, but the question is, would we not 
succeed better in promoting that happiness by giv- 
ing more time to improving ourselves, so as to fit us 
for the effectual promotion of the happiness of 
others. 

Doubtless Emmerson was wrong when he said 
"we must walk this earth alone." And Thomas 
Moore was right when he said, "unthinking heads 
who have not learned to be alone are prisoners to 
themselves, if they be not with others." And Patha- 
goras was right when he said, "do not shake hands 
with too many." 

Friendship has come largely to men planning 
and doing things together. It is a communion of 
interests and tastes, rather than of thought and soul. 
People meet in groups at one another's houses, or at 
their clubs, discuss the affairs of the day, and 
exchange kindly courtesies. But those who call them- 
selves friends part forever without tears, and the 
world is not perceptibly darkened. All this may 
imply a more sensible view of things and a rational 
widening of human interests. It is possibly better 
to love many people a little than a few people a great 
deal. And then again, it is possibly better not to be 
too intimate, as there is something like electrical 
influene in our actions. When two bodies of oppo- 
site electrical states come near each other, they 
exchange electrical conditions and become electric- 
ally alike and, electrically speaking, like bodies repel 



166 SOME ELEMENTS OF HAPPINESS 

each other. Therefore, the old adage, "Familiarity 
breeds contempt;" because each individual is jeal- 
ous of his own individuality and right of personality 
and privacy. A few, possibly, a very few, intimate 
friends, however, are desirable to help to smooth 
down the rough places of life, and lend additional 
brightness to its bright oases. 

The next element of happiness I will dwell on 
consists in following inherited aptitudes. To most 
of us the chance of happiness rests upon the develop- 
ment of the individual gift. Let each man find out- 
what thing it is that nature specially intended him 
to do, and do it. Work is only toil when it is the 
performance of duties for which nature did not fit 
us, and a congenial occupation is only serious play. 
If a man has an overwhelming disposition to become 
a lawyer or a physician or stock broker, and a talent 
for any of these things, let no force of persuasion 
or trick of circumstances induce him to abandon 
them in favor of the fine arts, or anything else. The 
happy are those who possess their own souls, whose 
attitude toward life and their fellowmen is firmly 
chosen and faithfully preserved. This mastery can 
only be attained through the liberal development of 
that special aptitude or faculty which nature has 
implanted in each man for the purnoses of self- 
expression and the services of mankind. The un- 
happy are those who lack faith in themselves, who 
do not know what they want, who are at variance 
with nature in the corroding conflict of passion and 
uncertain ideals. Nature abhors above all things a 
vacant soul, and she seems disposed to let loose 
upon it every poisonous humor in order that it may 
become untenable to its possessor. 

In a free and characteristic activity, though we 
may never fully attain the ends we seek, we shall 
easily annul and disregard all the secondary and 
feverish yearnings which harass and perplex the soul. 



SOME ELEMENTS OF HAPPINESS 167 

What man is more happy than the retired student, 
who desires no better company than his beloved 
books ? The poet who has succeeded in perpetuating 
in perfect verse some genuine sally of beautiful emo- 
tion; or, to come down to modes of self-expression 
as honorable, if less distinguished, the true carpenter 
or iron-worker or stone-cutter whose spirit is easily 
occupied in the production of things excellent in 
their practical beauty and usefulness. Such spirits 
have it in them to flow lucidly and serenely, lapsing 
over all obstacles with the silent smoothness of deep 
and swift waters. They are happy, not because they 
have no rebelious propensities, no faults or discords 
of temperament, but because they have shaped for 
themselves an adequate safety valve. There is in 
every character that is worth anything a good deal 
of superfluous energy — energy over and above what 
is required for the discharge of the common duties 
of life. If a man has not some living occupation 
born of the quality of his own soul in which the 
superfluous energy may expend itself in creative 
activity, it gathers and ferments there as a bitter 
and distinctive humor. If it is strictly suppressed, 
it breeds ennui, hypochondria and despair. Unhappy 
is the soul which is possessed by an energy too way- 
ward and too violent to be appeased by any normal 
activity ; an energy driven to find vent in wild tragic 
excess. To those natures whose aptitudes and 
impulses are exceptionally quick and strong, one of 
the greatest dangers to happiness is in the refusal 
to accept genially the limitations which society has 
set to the undue expansion of the individual. The 
uncontrolled nature of genius has often dashed itself 
in youthful rebellion against the host of circum- 
stances and brought forth from the struggle, only 
wretchedness and ruin. To each one of us there 
seems to be a barrier here and a barrier there, which 
we cannot but think that nature intended us roughly 



168 SOME ELEMENTS OF HAPPINESS 

to overstep, since she planted in us exceptional 
forces. 

It is our business to plant ourselves within the 
narrow limits of practical life and let the spirit shine 
there to its utmost intensity. Thus the poet, when 
he might give to the impulse of expression the freest 
and wildest liberty chooses to confine himself within 
the difficult bounds of the sonnet. We should accept 
the limitations of life with this noble and pliant gen- 
erosity of the poet, not with the austere spirit of the 
stoic, who plants himself in hostility to joy, gathers 
his skirts about him and holds aloof. But stoicism is 
not happiness. 

"The reason why happiness is most fully within 
our reach is not," so says Mr. Archibald Lampman, 
"for the season of youth, but rather that of early 
middle age. At this age we are in a position to 
appreciate experience, to digest and make the most 
of it. Moreover, the soul is stored with memories, 
a possession of which few of us sufficiently avail our- 
selves or realize the value. It is in memory that our 
deepest and securest pleasures consist. YVe spend 
long lives in the pursuit which we seldom attain, 
but always before us are the glories of anticipation 
and behind us the magical play house of Memory. 
Let us not, therefore, be exacting with life nor 
demand too much of the present hour. Let us be 
content if we lay up for ourselves treasures of fruit- 
ful memory; for there is an Alchemy in the 
imagination which can brew pleasures out of the 
most unpromising material and gleams of a curious 
sunshine will some day fall even upon the recollec- 
tion of our darkest miseries." So says the author 
just named, and a great compensation it surely is. 

"About the pursuit of happiness, how often I say 
to myself," so says John Burroughs, "that, consider- 
ing life as a whole, the most one ought to expect is 
a kind of negative happiness, a neutral state: the 



SOME ELEMENTS OF HAPPINESS 169 

absence of acute or positive happiness." Neutral 
tints make up the great back-ground of nature, and 
why not of life ? ' Neutral tints wear best in any- 
thing. We do not tire of them. 

To be consciously and positively happy all the 
while — how vain to expect ! We cannot walk 
through life on mountain peaks. Both laughter and 
tears we know, but a safe remove from both is the 
average felicity. 

Another thought is that we have each a certain 
capacity for happiness or unhappiness which is pretty 
constant. A thought worthy of attention is that 
every throb of pleasure costs something to the body, 
and that two throbs cost twice as much as one. Of 
this, then, we may be quite certain, namely, that a 
large amount of pleasure supposes a correspond- 
ingly large expenditure of nerve-force. You have 
felt this after being greatly amused ; in fact, you are 
tired out. It is undoubtedly true that, as time wears 
on, life becomes of a soberer hue. We are young 
but once, and need not wish to be young but 
once. There is the happiness of youth, there is 
the happiness of manhood, there is the happiness 
at age, the latter a parting glory like that of the 
setting sun; each period wearing a hue peculiar to 
itself. One of the illusions of life which is hard to 
shake off is the fancying we were happier in the past 
than we are in the present. The past has such power 
to hallow and heighten effects. In the distance the 
course we have traveled looks smooth and inviting. 
Those days of the past which so haunt our memory 
ai e but a trick of the imagination, for they, too, were 
once the present and were as prosy and commonplace 
as the moment now is. It is equally a mistake to 
suppose we shall be happier tomorrow or next day 
than we are today. 

There is one element of happiness that has not 
.yet been mentioned, that is activity. The best thing 



170 SOME ELEMENTS OF HAPPINESS 

for a stream is to keep moving. If it stops, it stag- 
nates. So the best thing for a man is that which 
keeps the currents going, the physical, moral and 
intellectual currents. Hence the secret of happiness 
is — something to do; some congenial work. Take 
away the occupation of all men, and what a wretched 
world this would be. Half of it would commit sui- 
cide in no great length of time. Few people realize 
how much of their happiness, such as it is, is depend- 
ent upon their work ; upon the fact that they are kept 
busy. 

Happiness comes to most people who seek her 
least, and think least about her. It is not an object 
to be sought; it is a state to be induced. It must 
follow, and not lead. Blessed is the man who has 
some congenial work, some occupation in which he 
can put his heart, and which affords a complete out- 
let to all the forces there are in him. A man does 
not want much time to think about himself. Too 
much thought of the past and its shadows over- 
whelm ; too much thought of the present dissipates ; 
too much thought of the future unsettles. 

"I recently had a letter," says Mr. Burroughs, 
"from a friend who writes how well and happy he 
has been during the season. He had enjoyed exist- 
ence, the gods had smiled upon him, and he had 
found life worth living. Then he told me, as a 
matter of news, that his head man had been disabled 
two months before, and the care of the farm had 
devolved upon himself; more, that he was renovat- 
ing a place he had recently bought, re-modeling the 
house, shaping the grounds, etc. Then I knew why 
he had been so unusually well and happy: He had 
something to do, into which he could throw himself, 
and it had set all the currents of his being going 
.again. 

"About the same time I had another letter from 
another fanner friend who told me how busy he 



SOME ELEMENTS OF HAPPINESS 171 

was. And yet he was so happy ! 'Troubles and 
trials,' he says, 'are few and soon over with, while 
the pleasures are past enumeration.' This man was 
too busy to be unhappy; he had no time for the 
blues. 

"I overheard an old man and a young man talk- 
ing at a station," says he. "The young man was 
telling of an old uncle of his who had sold his farm 
and retired into the village. He had enjoyed going 
to the village, so now he thought he would take his 
fill of it. But it soon cloyed upon him. He had 
nothing to do. Every night he would say, with a 
sigh of relief, *Well, another day is through," and 
each morning wondered how he could endure the 
day." 

Oh, the blessedness of work, of life-giving and 
life-sustaining work. The busy man is the happy 
man ; the idle man is the unhappy. When you 
feel blue and empty and disconsolate, and life goes 
wrong, go to work with your minds or hands. 

"Man does not love work," so says Ferrero. 
"The distaste which savages, and primitive peoples 
generally, show for work proves this. Evil men 
entrench behind idleness. Yet to have food you 
must toil. To have learning you must study, and 
study is a form of work. To have pleasure you 
must work. In fact, it is the busy man who really 
enjoys pleasure, and the cultivation of a love of 
work is one of the greatest conquests of civilized 
man. 

There is but one other element of happiness I 
will refer to on this occasion, and that is health. I 
will not dwell upon it now. In the long run, 
and to a great majority of men, health is probably 
the important one of all the elements of happiness. 
Acute physical suffering or shattered health will 
more than counterbalance the best gifts of fortune. 
If it be true that "a healthy mind in a healthy body" 



172 SOME ELEMENTS OF HAPPINESS 

is the supreme condition of happiness, it is also true 
that the healthy mind depends more closely than we 
like to own on the healthy body. To raise the level 
of national health is one of the surest ways of rais- 
ing the level of national happiness, and in estimat- 
ing the value of different pleasures, many which, 
considered in themselves, might appear to rank low 
upon the scale, will rank high if, in addition to the 
immediate and transient enjoyment they procure, 
they contribute to form a strong and healthy body. 
No branch of legislation is really more valuable 
than that which is occupied with the health of the 
people. Moderation in all things, an abundance of 
exercise, of fresh air, and of cold water, a suffi- 
ciency of steady work not carried to excess, are the 
cardinal rules to be observed in leading to a life of 
happiness. 



The Pursuit of Happiness 

As all are in search of happiness, and none want 
to be unhappy, I think my subject will be appre- 
ciated. Although I may talk to you about happi- 
ness, I may not succeed in increasing yours, at the 
same time pointing out the direction in which it lies 
may indicate to some extent the means that lead 
thereto. Although it should not be forgotten that 
happiness is most frequently found when it is not 
made an object of direct pursuit, as in self-improve- 
ment, speaking the truth and acting honestly, 
wherein happiness lies, although it is not made a 
direct end. 

.As many of the ideas found in this paper have 
been extracted from the writings of Herbert 
Spencer, I wish to acknowledge my obligation to 
him once for all. 

To get into the merits of the subject, it is neces- 
sary to divide happiness into two kinds : One effects 
ourselves, which we will call egoistic; the second 
effects others, and we will call it altruistic. As I 
shall use these terms frequently, it will be well to 
keep their references well in mind. One refers to 
self or personal happiness, the second to the happi- 
ness of others. 

Now, it is important to determine which of these 
should take precedence. To show this it is neces- 
sary to show that happiness depends, to a much 
greater extent than is generally believed, upon 
bodily health. 

Never, until this truth is fully realized, will the 



171 THE PURSUIT OF HAPPIXESS 

happiness of the world be greatly increased. When- 
ever people learn to consider the amount of unhap- 
piness caused by ill health, they will avoid it on this 
account. If more attention were given to the body, 
its comfort and well being, there would be much less 
unhappiness in the world, less pain and suffering. 
When all the organs of the body are in good work- 
ing order, there is a feeling of well being which is 
very agreeable. We feel happy and don't know 
why. Without this feeling there can be no great 
enjoyment, with it there may be great comfort with 
but little co-operation of the mind properly so called. 

A point of great importance is that pleasurable 
feelings promote the health of body, and vice versa. 
Painful feelings are detrimental to the body; pleas- 
ures, both great and small, are stimulants to the 
processes by which life is maintained. Light arouses 
the circulation of blood in the brain and fresh air 
invigorates the whole body. Sunshine is enlivening 
in comparison with gloom, and experiments have 
shown that sunshine raises the rate of respiration ; 
raised respiration being an index of raised vital 
activities in general. A warmth that is agreeable 
in degree favors the heart's action, and furthers the 
various functions to which this is instrumental. 
From which it would seem that happiness depends 
to a greater extent upon climatic influences than is 
generally supposed. 

Agreeable sensations accompany muscular and 
mental action after due rest, and that agreeable sen- 
sations are caused by rest after exertion cannot be 
questioned. Receipt of these pleasures conduces to 
the maintenance of the body in fit condition for all 
the purposes of life. 

More manifest still are the physiological benefits 
of emotional pleasures. Every power, bodily and 
mental, is increased by good spirits. Invalids, espe- 
cially, show the benefits derived from agreeable 



THE PURSUIT OP HAPPINESS 175 

states of feeling. In brief, as every medical man 
knows, there is no such tonic as happiness. 

On the other hand, bodily agony long borne 
produces death by exhaustion. More frequently, 
arresting the action of the heart for a time, it causes 
that temporary death we call fainting. 

ISTo less conspicuous are the depressing effects 
of emotional pains. Often a piece of bad news is 
succeeded by sickness, and continued anxiety will 
produce loss of appetite and diminished strength. 
While, therefore, craving or negative pain accom- 
panies the under-activity of an organ, and while 
positive pain accompanies its over-activity, pleasure 
accompanies its normal activity. In illustration of 
the effects of under-activity, I will state that unless 
a man who is in the habit of busying his mind has 
some' subject to dwell on, he is not happy. 

And, further, it has been claimed that grief from 
the loss of a dear friend is due to the absence of the 
activity of the affections that were wont to be lav- 
ished on that friend. 

In further illustration of the importance of the 
body in considering happiness, I will state that while 
forcing one to remain inactive after due rest is a 
punishment, there is nothing equal as a remedy 
for low spirits as an abundance of bodily exercise, 
showing that happiness depends greatly on small 
matters. 

The delights of bodily movements are seen 
in the skipping of lambs, the prancing of colts and 
the play of dogs. 

Given a healthy body and mind, with induce- 
ments for action and opportunities for rest, and you 
have not only the elements but the bread and butter 
of a happy existence. 

We are now better prepared to consider which 
should come first— our own happiness or that of 
others. 



176 THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS 

Of self-evident truths, the one which here con- 
cerns us is that a creature must live before it can 
act. From this it is a corollary that acts by which 
each maintains his own life must precede in im- 
perativeness all other acts of which he is capable. 
For if it be asserted that those other acts must pre- 
cede in imperativeness acts which maintain life, 
then, by postponing the acts which maintain life to 
the acts which life makes possible, all must lose 
their lives, if it is accepted as a general law. To 
place altruism before egoism is, therefore, suicidal, 
whereas self-preservation is the first law of nature. 
Unless each duly cares for himself, his care for all 
others is ended by death, and if each thus dies, there 
remain no others to be cared for. 

The conclusion forced upon us is that the pursuit 
of individual happiness is the first requisite to the 
attainment of the greatest general happiness. To 
see this, it needs but to contrast one whose self- 
regard has maintained bodily well being with one 
whose regardlessness of self has brought its natural 
results. He who carries self-regard far enough to 
keep himself in good health and high spirits in the 
first place becomes an immediate source of happi- 
ness to those around, and in the second place main- 
tains the ability to increase their happiness by altru- 
istic actions. 

In one further way is the undue subordination 
of egoism to altruism injurious. That one man 
may yield up to another a gratification, it is needful 
that the other shall accept it. Acceptance implies a 
readiness to get gratification at another's cost. 
Every one can call to mind circles in which the daily 
surrender of benefits by the generous to the greedy 
has caused increase of greediness until there lias 
been produced an unscrupulous selfishness intoler- 
able to all around. That egoism preceeds altruism 



THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS 177 

in order of imperativeness, we think, is thus clearly 
shown. 

Although the above conclusion is at variance 
with the nominally accepted belief, it is not at vari- 
ance with actually accepted belief. It is in harmony 
with the doctrine which men do act upon. Every 
one, by deed and word, implies that in the business 
of life personal welfare is the primary consideration. 
As self-evident as this seems to be, it is strange that 
any one should contend for the opposite. 

If we define altruism as being all actions which, 
in the nominal course of things, benefits others 
instead of benefiting self, then from the dawn of life 
it has been no less essential than egoism. Under 
altruism, I take the acts by which offspring are pre- 
served and the species maintained. And yet this is 
not a fair specimen of altruistic acts, as the off- 
spring is a part of the parent. 

The imperativeness of altruism is, indeed, no 
less than the imperativeness of egoism, as far as the 
race is concerned. For while, on the one hand, a 
falling short of normal egoistic acts entails enfeeble- 
ment or loss of life, on the other hand, such defects 
of altruistic acts as cause death of offspring involves 
disappearance from future generations of the nature 
that is not altruistic enough. 

There has been a slow advance from the altruism 
of the family to social altruism, which prepares us 
to consider the several ways in which personal wel- 
fare depends on due regard for the welfare of 
others. 

First to be dealt with comes that negative altru- 
ism implied by such curbing of the egoistic impulses 
as prevents direct aggression. Each profits egoistic- 
ally from the growth of an altruism which leads 
each to aid in preventing the violence of others. 

The like holds when we pass to that altruism 
which retains the undue egoism displayed in the 



178 THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS 

breaches of contract. Here each is personally inter- 
ested in securing good treatment of his fellows by 
one another. 

There is another way in which personal welfare 
depends upon making certain sacrifices for social 
welfare. The man who expends his energies wholly 
on private affairs, pluming himself on his wisdom 
in minding his own business is blind to the fact that 
his own business is made possible only by a healthy 
social state, and that he loses all round by defective 
governmental arrangements. 

But there are ways other than those mentioned 
in which altruism manifests itself. For instance, by 
giving material aid. This mode of charity requires 
care, lest more harm than good results. The prac- 
tice of benevolence, however, is harmless. The 
speaking of a good word or word of warning or of 
encouragement often is of great service, and occa- 
sions great comfort. 

The case on behalf of egoism and the case on 
behalf of altruism have been stated, and they seem 
to conflict. If the maxim, live for self, is wrong, so 
also is the maxim, live for others. We will take the 
last. This necessarily leads us to an examination of 
the greatest happiness principle, that is, that general 
happiness ought to be the object of pursuit, which 
identifies it with pure altruism. Mr. Mills, the 
great exponent of this doctrine, says "everybody to 
count for one, nobody to count for more than one," 
which brings about the idea of distribution. The 
idea is that the greatest happiness should be the end 
sought, and that in appropriating it everybody 
should count for one and nobody for more than 
one. This implies that happiness is something that 
can be cut up into parts and handed round, which 
is an impossibility. 

The utilitarian principle of general happiness, or 
the happiness of the greatest number, involves the 



THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS 179 

belief that it is possible for happiness to be trans- 
ferred. 

The proposition taken for granted is that happi- 
ness in general admits of detachment from one and 
attachment to another. But a moment's thought 
shows this is far from the truth, for the reason 
that much of the happiness each enjoys is self- 
generated, and can neither be given nor received. 

We have seen that pleasure accompanies normal 
amounts of function or exercise, while pains accom- 
pany defects or excess of exercise. Hence, to yield 
up normal pleasures is to yield up so much life. If 
he is to continue living, the individual must neces- 
sarily take certain amounts of those pleasures which 
go along with fulfilment of the bodily functions, 
and must avoid the pains which non-fulfilment of 
them entails. Complete abnegation means death. 

When, therefore, we attempt to specialize the 
proposal to live not for self-satisfaction, but for 
the satisfaction of others, we meet with the diffi- 
culty that, beyond a certain limit, this cannot be 
done. In other words, the portion of happiness 
which it is possible for one to yield up is only a 
limited portion. How can one yield to another, 
and how can another appropriate to himself the 
pleasures of one's own health, or the pleasures of 
one's own muscular exercise, the pleasures of one's 
own mental efforts, or of any kind of efforts, at 
our self-improvement? 

Again, the pleasures of efficient action — suc- 
cessful pursuit of ends — cannot, by any process, be 
parted with, and cannot in any way be appropriated 
by another. If we contemplate the various ambi- 
tions which play so large a part in life, we are 
reminded that, so long as the consciousness of effi- 
ciency remains a dominant pleasure, there will 
remain a dominant pleasure which cannot be pur- 
sued by others but must be pursued by self. 



180 THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS 

It is admitted that self -happiness is, in a meas- 
ure, to be obtained by furthering the happiness of 
others. May it not be true that conversely, that 
general happiness is to be obtained by furthering 
self-happiness? Our conclusion must be that gen- 
eral happiness, worthy as is the object, is to be 
achieved mainly through the adequate pursuit of 
their own happiness by individuals, while recipro- 
cally the happiness of individuals is to be achieved, 
in part, by their pursuit of general happiness. 

When increasing the happiness of others 
increases our own happiness, as is generally the 
case, it is all right ; but, whatever moralists may 
say to the contrary, whenever we promote the happi- 
ness of others by the loss of our own, the act, to 
that extent, is suicidal, if happiness, as is contended, 
promotes health and is favorable to life. 

And such a man as Professor Sidgwick, of Har- 
vard, who takes a different view, is compelled to 
confess that there is an irreconcilible difficulty in 
reconciling one's interest and one's duty. "The 
meaning of the word duty," says he, "is something 
good for others, not good for me. And why should 
I be sacrificed to another man? Even though there 
is a motive in my constitution that urges me to self- 
sacrifice, why am I in particular to be oppressed with 
another man's burdens? Let every one bear his 
own burden, is the dictate of reason and justice." 

It may be asserted that this paper tends to make 
men selfish. This I doubt, as they are so by nature. 
I have simply pointed out some of the reasons why 
they are so. 

We pass to the consideration of the effects of 
sympathy in increasing our pleasures and in 
diminishing our pains. Now a pleasurable con- 
sciousness is aroused <>n witnessing pleasure: now 
a painful consciousness is aroused on witnessing 
pain. Hence, if beings around one habitually mani- 



THB PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS 181 

f est pleasure, sympathy yields to the possessor an 
increase of pleasure. But all men are also in a 
high degree sensitive or sympathetic to our pains, 
both bodily and mental. Were it not so, life would 
be scarcely tolerable, when we consider the misery 
everywhere being suffered as consequence of war, 
crime and misfortune. If the life, however, is such 
that suffering is daily inflicted, or is daily mani- 
fested by associates, sympathy grows only to a cer- 
tain extent. 

To assume unlimited growth of sympathy is 
to assume that the constitution will modify itself in 
such a way as to increase its pains, and, therefore, 
depress its energies; and it is to ignore the truth 
that bearing any kind of pain gradually produces 
insensibility to that pain or callousness. This cal- 
lousness is not only in the sufferer but in beholders. 
This is a wise provision of nature, for if the growth 
of sympathy with pain were unlimited, it would 
endanger health of body and mind, and the evils 
which it would bring would offset its benefits, so 
that sympathy would not increase our happiness. 

Sympathy increases our happiness, then, by 
yielding freely to pleasure, but only sparingly to 
pain. 

The object of this thesis has been to show that 
neither individual nor general happiness should be 
the sole or main end of life. It is not an object to 
be sought, it is a state of mind to be induced. It 
must follow and not lead. 

From the complexity of influences which bear 
upon us, it is not probable that we should be moved 
by one motive alone. Now it is our happiness, and 
now the happiness of others, and now it is to live out 
our lives for the good of ourselves or that of others, 
Herbert Spencer to the contrary notwithstanding. 



The Effed: of Happiness Upon 
Character 

All men seek after happiness, and it is as natural 
for them to do so as it is for sparks to fly upwards, 
as is indicated by the actions of the child at the 
breast, having tasted nourishment, and finding it 
agreeable, nurses with avidity until satisfied. It 
behooves us, then, to inquire into the effects of 
happiness upon character. 

There are those who claim that whatever pro- 
duces happiness is right, and vice versa. This 
theory we will not stop to consider, further than to 
say if happiness is the main end of life, many will 
have to be content with a very small portion. 

By happiness we here mean external happiness, 
wealth, success, fame, health and victory. What 
effect has the possession or pursuit of these things 
on character? 

Observation of human affairs has convinced all 
the more highly civilized nations of the one great 
fundamental truth, that happiness, or prosperity, or 
good fortune, is a menace to character. So that 
unalloyed happiness is not perfect happiness. 

Prosperity produces satiety, and only an unusual 
amount of good sense will enable a man to bear it. 
The view is undoubtedly well founded, that pros- 
perity and success have the tendency to make one 
self-satisfied and insolent. The prosperous man is 
prone to judge others harshly and himself mildly. 
His success he considers to be due entirely to his 

182 



CHARACTER AFFECTED BY HAPPINESS 183 

own exertions. He is ready to speak uncharitably 
of the misfortune or failure of others, and to lay 
all the blame on them. He has no respect for the 
strivings of others, nor sympathy with their mis- 
fortunes, and thus arises the habit of mind called 
insolence. This leads to the abuse of the weak and 
vanquished ; to a state of careless self-assurance. 

It is a noteworthy fact that the mere sight of 
sensuous enjoyment usually fills the spectator with 
disgust. Thus, for instance, to watch a company 
of people feasting and drinking is apt to arouse 
feelings of repulsion. We naturally shrink from 
observing the satisfaction and excesses of sensuous 
needs. 

What makes the vain man so unbearable is the 
fact that he needs and seeks people to whom to 
narrate his deeds and sufferings. Biographies 
usually become uninteresting as soon as the hero 
has overcome all difficulties and obstacles, the dan- 
gers and battles, which separated him from his goal. 
The years of rest and universal recognition, of fame 
and wealth, however well deserved they may be, 
are passed over in silence by the biographer. 

"Enjoyment is degrading," says Faust. A pro- 
found truth, for the soul addicted to pleasure is con- 
quered and degraded. The real secret of Faust's 
power of resistance to evil was his failure to find 
satisfaction in pleasure. 

What is true of individuals is also true of col- 
lective bodies, of nations, classes, parties — prosper- 
ity ruins them. They lose their capacity for self- 
criticism and self-control ; they lose their strength 
and dignity; they lose the sense of what is proper, 
and so inwardly are ruined; they are ingloriously 
defeated by a despised foe. Nothing in the world 
is more repulsive than a company of well-fed and 
self-satisfied persons, who boast of their fatness and 
satiety; nothing is so apt to arouse all healthy 



184 CHARACTER AFFECTED BY HAPPINESS 

instincts of humanity against it; nothing, therefore, 
so certain of destruction, as history proves. 

Social pleasures are so easily abused that it is not 
strange that in all ages large numbers of sincere 
men and women have called them evil. In the 
excitement of social pleasure, work and duty may 
be forgotten, and the strength of character which 
is maintained by self-denying struggle may be lost. 
Nations, such as the old Romans, for instance, that 
have surrendered themselves unreservedly to pleas- 
ure have become effiminate, cruel and corrupt. 

Nevertheless, nothing is more unscientific than 
to confound the effects of excess and abuse with 
those of normal use. Yet an enormous number of 
mankind who value those moral qualities that may 
collectively be spoken of as self-restraint or self- 
conservation — the power to be temperate in all 
things, to resist temptation, to abstain with rigid 
self-denial from modes or degrees of pleasure that 
often result in injury — is a trait of character vastly 
admired by a portion of mankind and is chiefly 
sought for in the selection of companions and in the 
efforts that are made to mould the characters of the 
members of the community. This particular f< >nn 
of social valuation is known in history as puri- 
tanism. 

While, therefore, no community can afford to 
forget that the cultivation of social pleasure at the 
expense of sturdier social activities is a fatal error, 
it cannot more afford to forget that social pleasure 
under rational control is the original motive to social 
development. 

The history of the Church also confirms this 
truth; nay, perhaps it is nowhere so self-evident as 
there, for the Church, triumphant and dominant. 
invariably becomes haughty, stubborn, hard-hearted 
and persecuting. 

Such are the consequences of prosperity. Now 



CHARACTER AFFECTED BY HAPPINESS 185 

look at the other side of the picture — at the educat- 
ing, strengthening", purifying effects of adversity, 
failure and suffering. Misfortune renders the will 
flexible; the will that can bear trouble is made 
elastic and grows strong under pressure. It gives 
us patience to bear the inevitable, it exerc'ses our 
ability to measure and test ourselves and our pow- 
ers ; it makes us modest in our demands and 
charitable in our judgments of others' failings. 
Prosperity develops the repulsive qualities of human 
nature ; adversity unites men, making them friendly, 
patient and just. 

When a storm suddenly comes up on a summer 
day, we may see how the persons of high and low 
degree, who avoided and repelled each other while 
the sun was shining, now seek refuge beneath the 
same roof, and bear and even jest with each other. 
So it is when a great misfortune overtakes a city 
or a nation — it breaks down all the barriers of pride 
and hatred which were erected in the days of pros- 
perity. Finally, the highest moral perfection is not 
matured without misfortune and suffering. 

Misfortune has an educating influence. "No 
human being can be trained without blows," so says 
Menander. And a Greek poet said: "Zeus (their 
god) leads us to wisdom and sanctifies the law that 
suffering is our teacher." 

Suffering is punishment; but for him who 
accepts the punishment, it is also a remedy against 
that disease of the soul which is caused by pros- 
perity — self-righteous harshness. 

The dying Socrates has become for philosophers 
a living witness of the truth that "no evil can befall 
man so long as he refuses to regard it as such." 
"How can that be an evil," asks Marcus Aurelius, 
"that does not make me worse?" 

Hence we may say that real happiness is a proper 
mixture of so-called happiness (good fortune) and 



186 CHARACTER AFFECTED BY HAPPINESS 

misfortune. "A man's lot is not happy when all 
his desires are always and fully realized, but when 
he obtains a proper share of joy and sorrow, success 
and failure, plenty and want, struggle and peace, 
work and rest, and obtains it at the right time." Just 
as the plant needs sunshine and rain in order to 
thrive, so the inner man cannot prosper without 
both cheerful and gloomy days. 

If everything went against him, if he experi- 
enced nothing but trouble, he would, necessarily 
turn from the world and life with horror. 

Nor could a man call himself happy if his wishes 
were realized as soon as they rose in his soul. He 
would miss some very important human experi- 
ences; he would not bring out some quite essential 
phases of human nature. Just as a general who has 
never met with defeat would remain ignorant of all 
the resources of his mind and be unable to unfold 
them, so a man who has never wanted for anything 
and has never failed in anything would not be able 
to develop all the powers of his mind and will. He 
would feel that fate had withheld from him some- 
thing essential to the perfection of his being, and 
he would, perhaps, like Polycrates, feel terrified at 
his happiness. 

And so we may be permitted to say that life, as 
we find it, is, on the whole, adapted to the real needs 
of human nature — it brings to every one good and 
evil days, success and trials. 

We are reminded of the thoughtful poem of 
Chamisso : A man, complaining of the heaviness 
of his cross, is taken to a large hall, where the 
crosses of all human beings are stored. He is 
allowed to choose a new one for himself. He lays 
down his own and begins to look around for a suit- 
aide one. After a careful ami deliberate search, he 
finally finds a cross that seems most satisfactory t" 
him. Upon examining it more closely, he discovers 



CHARACTER AFFECTED BY HAPPINESS 187 

that it is his own cross which he had for the moment 
failed to recognize. 

There are people who would show us a better 
world than our real world, and, therefore, denounce 
the real world as a failure. If they were allowed 
their imaginary world and were to live in it, they 
would perhaps discover that the conditions are far 
more satisfactory in our despised world. 

If our pessimists could be transported to another 
planet for a short period, they would perhaps learn 
to think of the earth with longing and gratitude. 

I close with a quotation from the life of Hum- 
bolt : 

"We, too, have not been resting on a bed Of 
roses ; but our hearts are strong in patience and full 
of energetic action. Pain is not a misfortune, pleas- 
ure not always a blessing; whoever fulfills his 
destiny suffers both." 

And in fulfilling that destiny, it is advisable to 
be, not overthoughtful of or too sensitive to either. 

In the preparation of this paper, I wish to 
acknowledge my obligations for help to Professor 
Paulsen, of the University of Berlin. 



The World We Live In 

If it be true that man has come up from a lowly 
organized creature, that fact shows that the earth 
was adapted for that puurpose, viz. : developing that 
creature into man, else he never would have 
appeared. But what sort of an arena is it, for the 
development of man, after he comes upon the stage 
as man? Is it adapted to his further evolution? 
We shall see. The occupations of man for ages 
were so simple, such as procuring food and cook- 
ing it, providing shelter, garments and tools, his 
progress was very slow, as is shown by the ages 
which intervened from the time he learned to chip 
stone before he learned to grind or polish it. 

Human development is based upon the possibility 
of a natural and harmonious satisfaction of the 
instincts. One of the most important instincts is 
usually not even recognized as such — the instinct of 
workmanship. Lawyers, criminologists and philos- 
ophers frequently imagine that only want makes 
men work. This is an erroneous view. We are 
instinctively forced to be active in the same way as 
ants or bees. The instinct of workmanship would 
be the greatest source of development were it not for 
the fact that our present social and economic organ- 
ization allows only a few to satisfy this instinct. 
Robert Meyer has pointed out that any successful 
display or setting free of energy is a source of pleas- 
ure to us. This is the reason why the satisfactii m i if 
the instinct of workmanship is of such importance 
in the economy of life, for the play and learning of 



THE WORLD WE LIVE IN 189 

the child, as well as for the scientific or commercial 
work of the man. 

Irrespective of wants and the efforts to gratify 
them, agreeable sensations accompany muscular 
exercise. It is necessary to promote a free flow of 
blood and the nutrition and development of the 
body. Given a healthy body with inducements for 
action and opportunities for rest and you have the 
elements of a happy existence. The spontaneous 
tendency of our bodies to action is accountable to a 
great degree for our muscular development. 

Then there is the additional element of want. 
Man has learned that the earth does not supply him 
with a sufficiency of spontaneous food and clothing. 
He must work. The necessity for this is early 
apparent. This is not only necessary to life, but is 
a benefit beside. A benefit to his physical being — it 
gives exercise to his frame and development to mus- 
cles, and stimulus to his mind. Without these things, 
he would be a poor dwarf. 

"If the earth yielded harvests of its own accord, 
if the forests produced an abundance of all fruits, 
there would be no agriculture. If the climate were 
always absolutely suited to the comforts of man- 
kind, there would be no need of houses. If tools of 
all kinds grew upon trees, or shoes fell from heaven 
once a year, we should have no wants; we should 
need no trades ; we should be living in a state of ideal 
perfection." 

What distinguishes our world from such a 
dreamland is the obstacles and the labor made neces- 
sary by them. Now, no one can doubt that our own 
world is more adapted to our natures, constituted as 
they are, than such an ideal world. 

The work that is necessary to gratify the wants 
of man affords him necessary occupation. With 
most men, by the time his wants are satisfied and the 
wants of his family, and a little something is laid 



190 THE WORLD WE LIVE IN 

aside for a rainy day, there is not much time left 
for other things, except to rest for another day. 
And so it goes with most men, day in and day out, 
until death closes the scene. In the meantime, the 
only comfort he knows is that of developing himself 
and of rearing a family. 

Then there are the educating influences of his 
labor. The making of a hut, the stitching together 
of a garment, the cooking of his food, and making 
tools, all have a developing effect upon the mind. 

And then the thought of ownership is developed. 
The sense of ownership begins away back in life. 
In the second year of life the child begins to say 
my, and manifests the importance of this word. The 
savage learns it in a measure by experience. He 
learns that by eating up all the food there is on 
hand when food is scarce, he may be forced to suffer 
the pains of hunger for days together. He learns 
slowly the importance of deferring one enjoyment 
that a greater one may be held in store for the 
future. He finds in the struggle for life it stands 
him in hand to look ahead and accumulate some- 
thing. 

This desire for accumulating something is one 
of the elements of our nature, and plays an import- 
ant role in the world. It fosters self-control, for 
instance. Were it not for the love of ownership, 
there would be danger of anarchy instead of law 
and order. Were it not for the strong hope of own- 
ing something, which exists in the bosom of man, 
however it came there, and were it not for the 
knowledge that behavior and good government 
favored the stability of property rights, man}- men 
would turn themselves loose as agents of destruc- 
tion. 

The idea that we can help to improve the world. 
that is, make it a better place for man to live in, is 
an important idea, and opens up a new channel for 



THE WORLD WE LIVE IN 191 

thought and labor. The earth as God left it and as 
man has added to it are two different things. Who- 
ever has cleared a patch of ground, tilled a field, 
made a road, built a house, planted a tree, or sowed 
out a lawn, has done something to beautify the 
planet, making it more attractive. 

But is the earth adapted for the development of 
man's moral nature? Does not the existence of 
moral evil in the world interfere with the develop- 
ment of his moral nature? Could not and should 
not moral evil have been eliminated or left out? "I 
believe," so says Professor Paulsen, of the Uni- 
versity of Berlin, "that we must answer the question 
in the negative." Erroneously though it may sound, 
moral evil, too, is in a certain sense necessary. If 
it were wholly eliminated, human life would lack 
an indispensable element. It may be shown that 
life demands the very conditions under which it 
actually exists. Take away all evils, and you abolish 
life itself. Evil remains evil none the less, but it 
is not a thing that ought absolutely not to be. It 
must be, not for its own sake, however, but for the 
sake of the good. We cannot conceive of the pos- 
sibility of exterminating evil without at the same 
time striking at the good. 

But not only is the potential evil in our own 
nature an indispensible means of realizing the good, 
but the actual evil outside of us is the same; in 
battling against it, virtue grows strong; injustice 
arouses in the spectator or victim the idea of the 
right and the sense of justice; falsehood and deceit 
make truth and veracity valuable ; in short, we first 
become conscious of the true worth of goodness 
through evil. 

All the great heroes of humanity became what 
they were only by struggling with evil. 

Hence, if we eliminate all evil from history, we 
at the same time eliminate the conflict of the good 



192 THE WORLD WE LIVE IN 

with evil and lose the highest and grandest posses- 
sion of humanity — moral heroism. Hence, good- 
ness can thrive and grow strong upon earth only in 
the struggle for existence with evil. We cannot 
even imagine a history without such opposites. But 
shall we, in acknowledging the necessity of evil, also 
recognize it as one of the legitimate constituents of 
reality, equal in value to the rest. That is not my 
meaning. The evil has no value whatever as such, 
and no claim to existence. It exists only for the 
sake of the good, to enable it to act and realize itself. 
It is a negative quantity, valueless as such; it 
receives a kind of power and reality only through its 
opposite — the good. But the point comes up, can 
that which is evil be made to promote good without 
itself becoming good? We answer, yes. There is 
murder, for instance, which is always, and under all 
circumstances, evil, and yet the state makes use of 
it to prevent other murders, which does not make it 



The impulse to combat evil does not spring from 
a conception of a perfect state to be realized by the 
conflict, but from the feeling aroused by the pressure 
of the particular evil at hand. 

The general belief, that the satisfaction of every 
need, the removal of every evil will invariably be 
followed by new ones, will neither hinder action nor 
weaken its effects. Even if we should be convinced 
that want and misery, injustice and falsehood will 
exist, world without end, we shall not cease com- 
bating them wherever they show themselves. And 
this is as it should be; the struggle can never lie 
absolutely ineffectual. One result is bound to fol- 
low under all circumstances: Our antagonism 
places us in the ranks of those who are fighting for 
the good and right. 

The immediate and real purpose of every human 
being is not to obtain happiness for the human race, 



THE WORLD WE LIVE IN 193 

but to live his own life worthily, and this end he can 
realize under all conditions. The important thing 
to the man of action is that he do the right. Who- 
ever meekly succumbs to evil as to something that 
cannot be overcome will surely be overcome by it; 
inaction is followed by discouragement and weari- 
ness. So soon, however, as a man begins to defend 
himself, he becomes conscious of his own activity 
and strength, and feels that the evil which he is 
attacking recedes. The satisfaction thus experienced 
by him is not destroyed by the thought that another 
evil may take the place of the vanquished one. 

The proper use, therefore, which we should 
make of evil and wickedness is this : We should 
antagonize it honestly and energetically and make 
it a means of our own perfection, and so far as we 
can of that of others. 

We do not say these considerations are a suffi- 
cient justification for the existence of evil, but that 
they should mitigate the harshness of our criticisms 
of the author of it, for the reason that the whole of 
it, for aught we know, was a necessity. Anyway, 
without obstacles to call forth muscular exertion, in 
strength, we would be babes; without ignorance, 
requiring mental efforts, we would be imbeciles, and 
without the bad to combat, in moral character, we 
would be dwarfs. Evil, then, is a reform school for 
the development of our powers. 

Paulsen, in making an attempt to justify the evil 
in the world says : "Of course, we cannot prove 
that the world as it exists is absolutely good, or even 
that it is the best of possible worlds; but we can 
endeavor to say what it is for us." And it may, in 
my opinion, be shown that the universe, as it is, is 
essentially adapted to our natures. The world has 
developed us, therefore it is adapted to us and we 
to it; if not, we would not survive. 

According to scientists, it has been a long time 



194 THE WORLD WE LIVE IN 

at it — millions of years — so say scientists and so say 
many theologians, and if there be anything in our 
adjustment of ourselves to our surroundings, by this 
time we ought to be thoroughly adjusted to them, 
and especially since, according to evolutionists, we 
have been undergoing this adjustment from the low- 
est forms of life. The earth has undergone a great 
many changes, rendering it more and more habit- 
able, and so has man. These changes in man have 
been in conforming, moulding and modifying him- 
self to suit the earth. These have been going on for 
ages, and have been transmitted to us by inheritance. 
We can hardly conceive the condition of man if 
these changes were left out. These changes include 
the works of man himself, such as inventions and 
manufactures, and his changes of mind and morals 
so as to adapt himself better to the conditions of 
earth. Acquiring these modifications through inheri- 
tance, we are indebted not only to the Creator 
but to our fellow men for ages back, and it is a 
question, on the whole, whether a more suitable 
world were possible. If we could only realize this 
fact, instead of tryine to find some one to blame, 
when fortune does not use us kindly, or when things 
seem to go wrong, contentment would reign in our 
bosoms, and particularly if we could realize that 
we, being what we are, could have any use for or 
tolerate a world cliff erentlv constituted. 



The Problem of Poverty 

In 1892 a group of the most prominent sociolo- 
gists (fifteen in number) contributed papers on the 
problem of poverty, of which this paper is a digest, 
largely made up by Rev. Washington Gladden, of 
England. 

STUDIES OF POVERTY 

It ought to be possible to ascertain pretty accu- 
rately the conditions under which our neighbors of 
the less fortunate classes are living. Such is the 
conclusion to which a few wise men in this genera- 
tion have lately come, and we have, as a result, sev- 
eral studies of poverty by which our judgment of 
this difficult subject may be greatly assisted. 

Mr. Jacob Riis has undertaken to tell us "How 
the Other Half Lives" in the city of New York. The 
book gives us, in a series of vivid pictures, a good 
idea of the sinking circles of that inferno, whose 
gates stand open every day before the eyes of the 
dwellers in New York. 

Mrs. Helen Cambell's "Prisoners of Poverty" 
is another series of sketches of life among the work- 
ing women of New York, by which much light is 
thrown upon their dark problem. Certain phases of 
the subject reveal themselves most clearly to a 
woman's insight. 

The Rev. L. A. Banks, in a number of popular 
discourses delivered in Boston, and lately published, 
has made rather a startling picture of the condition 
of the "white slave" of the metropolis of New Eng- 
land. 



196 THE PROBLEM OF POVERTY 

Mr. Charles Booth (who must not be con- 
founded with the head of the Salvation Army) has 
entered upon a work which affords a pattern for an 
investigation; which work is entitled, ''Labor and 
Life of the People." His investigations were con- 
fined chiefly to London. He caused to be made a 
thorough house-to-house and street-to-street investi- 
gation of that whole vast metropolitan area ; he ha9 
gathered his facts from various sources, and has 
diligently compared and compiled them; he has 
given to the world a statement, the fullness and 
colorless accuracy of which must impress every 
intelligent reader. The magnitude of his undertak- 
ing can scarce be imagined. Yet all may see that 
the work has been done with tact and judgment. So 
that philanthropists and legislators may feel that 
they have sure ground to go upon. Colored sec- 
tional maps accompany his volumes, set before the 
reader graphically the location of the various classes, 
revealing to the eye the character of the population 
in every street and square of central London. 

Mr. Booth has had a numerous staff of helpers 
under his own direction. But in addition to these, 
he has been able to make use of the whole of the 
School Board visitors. Most of the visitors have 
been working in the same districts for several years, 
and these have an extensive knowledge of the peo- 
ple. They are in daily contact with them, and have 
a very considerable knowledge of the parents of the 
poor children, especially of the poorest among them. 
and of the conditions under which they live. No 
one says he "can go over the descriptions as I have 
done and doubt the genuine character of the inform- 
ation. Beside these, the Local Government Board, 
the Board of Guardians of the Poor, the relieving 
officers, the police, the Charity Organization 
Society, the clergy, and the main- bodies of lay 
workers among the poor have aided me effectually." 



THE PROBLEM OP POVERTY 197 

Concerning the number of the lowest class, 
which are occasional laborers, loafers and semi- 
criminals, it is some relief to believe that this dis- 
orderly and dangerous class in a city like London 
constitute only nine-tenths of one per cent of the 
population — nine persons in a thousand. 

The fact that thirty persons in every hundred of 
that vast population are living below the line of 
comfort may well furnish food for meditation. The 
admission that thirty per cent of our neighbors are 
in poverty is one that none of us is willing to make. 

Would this be true of New York or Boston? It 
is impossible to say. Some of the experts who are 
thoroughly familiar with the worst of London tell 
us that they have found worse conditions in some of 
our American cities than any they have seen at home. 
If it be true, as all investigations indicate, that the 
greatest poverty is apt to be found in the densest 
population, then the bad eminence must be assigned 
to New York; for while the most populous acre of 
London holds only 307 "inhabitants, we have, accord- 
ing to the census, in the Eleventh ward of New York 
386 to the acre; in the Thirteenth ward, 428, and 
in the Tenth ward 522. The death rate of the two 
cities is also greatly in favor of London, for while 
in 1889 there were in that city 17.4 deaths to 
every 1,000 of population, in New York the rate 
was 25.19. 

CAUSES OF POVERTY 

Of the first three lowest classes, there were taken 
4,076 families well known to the School Board 
Visitors, and their cases were analyzed with a view 
of ascertaining the reasons why they are in poverty. 
It will be a surprise to many that, out of these 4,076 
cases of destitution, only 553 or 13^ per cent are 
reported as chiefly due to drink. I suppose that the 
great majority of those who attempt to account for 
poverty would say that 80 or 90 per cent of it could 



198 THE PROBLEM OP POVERTY 

be traced to this course. The fact that this careful 
investigation of Mr. Booth makes drink the principal 
cause in less than 14 per cent of the cases may well 
lessen somewhat the feeling of complacency with 
which the well-to-do citizen is often inclined to look 
upon the spectacle of poverty. While intemperance 
is a great cause of poverty, it is not certainly the 
chief cause. Indeed, in a great multitude of cases 
it is the effect rather than the cause of poverty. 

THE ENVIRONMENT 

The other causes of poverty need to be carefully 
studied. Ill health and physical debility are some- 
times due to vice, but they are also due, in a very 
large measure, to the conditions under which these 
poor people are compelled to live. Anyone who will 
traverse the narrow and filthy alleys in certain neigh- 
borhoods of East London, or those just south of 
Holborn, in the very heart of the great metropolis, 
noting the dark, forlorn, miserable apartments which 
serve as human habitations, or who will follow Mr. 
Riis in his explorations through Baxter street and 
Mulberry street, in New York, will understand why 
the people who live in such quarters should be irregu- 
larly employed, and why their wages should be low. 

It is simply impossible that laborers who get so 
little daylight in their dwellings, and who have so 
little fresh air to breathe, should have the physical 
vigor to work continuously and to earn good wages. 
And the moral as well as the physical qualifications 
of the efficient workers are sure to be wanting. 

How can men and women who are huddled 
together in such horrible closeness in such dreadful 
dens possess the self-respect, the hope, the courage, 
the enterprise, which are the best part of the equip- 
ment for every kind of work? The lowering of the 
physical and moral tone of the denizens of such 
dwellings is as inevitable as fate. Much of the time 



THE PROBLEM OF POVERTY 199 

they will not be fit to work ; when they do work they 
will be languid and slow ; they will be the last hands 
taken on in the busy times, and the first ones dis- 
charged in slack times ; that their wages will be low 
needs no demonstration. The point to be noted, that 
once down to this level, the conditions become the 
cause of poverty. If some of these people are here 
because they are poor, all of them are poor because 
they are here. 

These people work for the lowest wages. It 
might be supposed that they would, therefore, be 
more likely to obtain employment. But this is not 
true, for, as a rule, they are the dearest laborers that 
the employer can hire, simply because of their 
untrustworthiness and inefficiency. Low paid labor 
is often the most expensive to the employer. 

INDOLENCE AND IMPROVIDENCE 

The unemployed or the irregularly employed are 
often the victims of their own indolence or incapac- 
ity. We find a goodly number of those whose indis- 
position is due to character more than to environ- 
ment — persons who would not work if their health 
were perfect and all the conditions were favorable. 
The existence of this class is demonstrated whenever 
the work-test is effectively applied to the tramps 
perambulating our streets. The great majority of 
these gentry will shun the towns where lodging and 
breakfast may be earned by an hour or two of labor 
in the morning in favor of the towns where they can 
sleep without charge on the floor of the station-house, 
and beg their food from door to door. 

Family burdens are among the causes of poverty 
discovered in this analysis. Some of the households 
are pinched because of the number of small children. 
And one clear result of this census is to establish the 
fact that the families are largest in the poorest dis- 



200 THE PROBLEM OF POVERTY 

tricts. Such is precisely the fact in our own country, 
as most of us are aware. 

Here, again, we have a cause of poverty which is 
also an effect of poverty. 

ECONOMIC CONDITIONS 

The modern system of industry will not work 
without some unemployed margin. Some employers 
seem to think that this state of things is to their 
interest. The industrial machinery moves with great 
irregularity. Cycles and crises seem to occur with a 
periodicity which can he roughly calculated, and in 
almost every branch of business there is a busy sea- 
son when all the machinery is driven to the top of 
its speed, and a dull season when production is 
greatly reduced. 

Unless there is an industrial reserve on which 
they can call in driving times, the capitalist cannot 
meet the spasdomic demand, and must fail to secure 
their customary profits. Therefore, the modern 
industrial system contemplates irregularity of 
employment on the part of many. It expects to find, 
at any given moment, a small army of men standing 
idle in the market place. It makes provision, there- 
fore, in all its plans and estimates, for a certain 
amount of poverty. This is not a pleasant fact to 
contemplate, but it is hard to say what can be done 
about it ; moreover labor deteriorates under casual 
employment more than its price falls. 

CHARITY AS A CAUSE OF POVERTY 
The effect of indiscriminate charity in breeding 
poverty must also be taken into account. The Lord 
Mayor's fund of $350,000, which was flung out, by 
a charitable impulse, to the poor of East London a 
few winters ago, caused far more poverty than it 
cured. Many who were getting along fairly well 
without it left their work to depend 611 this fund. 



THE PROBLEM OF POVERTY 201 

and not only forfeited their self-respect, but sadly 
demoralized themselves by the deceit which they 
practiced in getting it. "The tendency of the fund," 
wrote one, shortly after its distribution, "has been 
to create a trust in lies." The effect of this distribu- 
tion upon the applicants at large was this : the 
foundation of such independence of character as 
they possessed has been shaken, and some of them 
have taken the first step in mendacity, which is too 
often never retraced. So that a large share of our 
well-meant charities is the increase of pauprism. 

CITY AND COUNTRY 

Poverty nests in the cities and the influx of popu- 
lation from the country to the city is a phenomenon 
worth studying. This immigration can be accounted 
for in part by the superior attractiveness of town 
life. The movement and stir of the city, the sights 
and sensations of the streets, powerfully allure the 
young men and women of the rural districts, who 
find life on the farm monotonous and tame. "Noth- 
ing is going on in the country." The higher wages 
of labor in London are the chief attraction to coun- 
trymen. Healthy lads and men coming from the 
rural districts into the metropolis will be given the 
preference, in many employments over city-bred 
laborers, because they are, as a rule, stronger and 
more trustworthy. The countrymen drawn in are 
mainly the cream of the country, and they usually 
get the pick of its posts. After a generation or two, 
many of these robust laborers begin to drop clown 
in the labor scale ; their superiority is lost, and their 
places are filled by fresh levies upon the country. 

IMMIGRATION 

Whatever may be true of London, it is probable 
that a large share of the poverty of the American 
cities is clue to the influx of helpless and degraded 



202 THE PROBLEM OF POVERTY 

people from other countries. London draws into 
its insatiate maw the vigor of the country and 
impoverishes it. % New York and Boston are them- 
selves largely impoverished by the immigration of 
multitudes whose standard of comfort is far below 
that of our own people, and who help to drag the 
natives down to their own level. The American 
policy seems to be to prevent the pauper labor of 
foreign countries from competing on its own ground 
with American labor, but to open the doors as 
widely as possible for this "pauper labor" to come 
to America and depress our own labor market by 
its desperate competition. 

THE GREED OF THE LANDLORD 

I shall name but one other cause of poverty in 
cities, and that is the exorbitance of rents. Owing 
to the good will and wise statesmanship in London, 
workingmen's rents in that city are far lower than 
in New York and in Boston. It is probable that the 
very poor of New York pay more per cubic yard 
for the squalid quarters they occupy than do the 
dwellers on the fashionable streets for their salubri- 
ous and attractive homes. At any rate, the revenues 
derived by the landlords from this kind of property 
are far greater than those received for the most 
costly buildings. It is held by those who know that 
the percentage very rarely falls below fifteen and 
frequently exceeds thirty. 

The growth of pauperism, if not of poverty, 
seems to be due to the decay of two old-fashioned 
social virtues. One of these is family affection. The 
individualism of the last half century has weakened 
the family. There has been so much talk of men's 
rights and women's rights and children's rights that 
the mutual and reciprocal duties and obligations of 
the family have come to be undervalued. Families 
do not cling together quite so closely as once they 



THE PRO BLUM OF POVERTY 203 

did. For this reason, many persons who ought to 
be cared for by their own kindred become a charge 
upon the public. The shame of permitting one's 
flesh and blood to become paupers ought to be 
brought home to every man and woman who thus 
casts off natural obligations. 

"The other old-fashioned virtue to which I 
refer," so says Mr. Gladden, "is the manly inde- 
pendence which is the substratum of all sound char- 
acter." Why this virtue is decaying, there is no time 
now to inquire. We fear that the effect of the 
Stratton Home, if ever it is built, would be injurious 
in this particular that it would pauperize a multitude 
by taking away their independence and fastening a 
spirit of dependence on such an institution. Take 
away a man's independence and you render him 
worthless. To whatever cause the decay of inde- 
pendence may be attributed, the loss is a very seri- 
ous one; and those who labor for the removal of 
the evils of poverty and pauperism may well remem- 
ber that the foundation of all sound social. structure 
is the sentiment of self-help and the just pride that 
would rather live upon a crust honestly earned than 
feast, as a dependent, on any man's bounty. 

Mr. Gladden aims to set forth, tentatively, some 
remedies for poverty, most of which are question- 
able. Upon one, the value of which is not included 
in the category of the questionable, I will lay great 
emphasis, and that is training of the children. 
Escape from the toils of penury might be offered to 
some, by furnishing a more practical education to 
the children of the poor. Some elementary indus- 
trial training would enlarge the resources of these 
boys and girls and might prevent many of them 
from dropping down into the lowest grades of labor, 
where the struggle is severest. Especially would a 
little practical training in domestic economy be use- 
ful to the girls of this class. Most of them are 



204 THE PROBLEM OF POVERTY 

destined to be wives and mothers, and the question 
whether the household shall live in pinched want or 
in comparative comfort often depends on the skill 
and thrift of the wife and mother. 

ABANDON OUT-OF-DOOR RELIEF 

Among the students of this problem the aboli- 
tion of public out-of-door relief is, however, 
scarcely an open question. It is simply impossible 
that our overseers of the poor should intelligently 
administer relief to the multitude of applicants daily 
appearing before them. Imposture flourishes under 
such a system, and the dependent classes are stead- 
ily recruited. Therefore it would be infinitely better 
if the state would give no relief except in its alms- 
houses and children's homes, leaving all the out-of- 
door to be dispensed by private charity. A few of 
our cities have tried this experiment with the most 
gratifying results. 

JSTot long since, President Eliot, of Harvard, 
addressed a large meeting of laboring men of Bos- 
ton. His subject was, "What modifications of exist- 
ing labor conditions will tend toward permanent 
industrial peace and be absolutely consistent with 
the democratic ideal of liberty?" His headings 
were : "Steadiness of employment is reasonably 
desired by both the workman and the employer. The 
instant dismissal of the laborer by the employer, 
except for the clearest reasons, is brutal and incon- 
sistent with considerate relations between labor and 
capital." Secondly, "Another common need for 
workmen and employers is that condition of labor 
which permits the laborer to have a settled place of 
abode. A wandering population can hardly be a 
civilized one." Thirdly, "It is desirable to give the 
workmen two things which they now but rarely 
obtain — first, a voice in the discipline of the works. 
including thai very important part of discipline, the 



THE PROBLEM OF POVERTY 205 

dealing- with complaints; and, secondly, a direct 
pecuniary interest besides wages in the proceeds of 
the combined application of the capital and the labor 
to the steady production of salable goods." 

Laboring men, almost unanimously, believe that 
the faithful and industrious workman who works 
for years in the same industrial establishment has 
earned something more than the wages paid him. 
They recognize the fact that only the settled or 
reasonably permanent workman has any claim on 
this intelligible and yet real something. 

"Looking back," said he, "on my own working 
life, spent in the service of a single institution, I see 
clearly what a happy privilege it is to give unstinted 
service to an undying institution in whose perma- 
nent and enlarging serviceableness one ardently 
believes. 

"The demand for larger wages," so says the 
commentator, "or lessened hours is sometimes made 
when the conditions of the industry do not justify 
it, but back of that demand is an ill-defined convic- 
tion on the part of the workingman that he has a 
right to some share in the profits of business, which, 
so long as he be kept in ignorance of the facts by 
his employer, he is only too apt to exaggerate. This 
involves a recognition by both employer and 
employed of the idea that they are partners in a 
common industrial enterprise, and that this partner- 
ship gives to each some voice in the control of the 
business, some knowledge of its affairs, and some 
share in its profits." 

This may be very good doctrine in large enter- 
prises, but could hardly apply to small and tem- 
porary ones. 

Mr. Eliot used one word in his address which 
deserves further consideration in this connection, 
and that word is "liberty." Surely the conflict of 
labor and capital can go on without interfering with 



206 THE PROBLEM OF POVERTY 

the liberty of any one. When it comes to infringing 
upon the liberty, whatever benefits may accompany 
the act on either side, there is something wrong 
somewhere and somehow. Liberty is especially 
infringed upon when the laboring man is hindered 
or prevented from working by other laboring men, 
be he non-union or what not. 

If one has a right to live, he has the inherent 
right to work to obtain the means of living. Just 
as well murder him outright as prevent him work- 
ing for a living. 

No laboring man has a right to injure or destroy 
capital, for capital is but stored-up labor. Neither 
has capital the right to cripple or interfere with 
labor, for labor is the creator of capital to a large 
extent. 

Nor under the constitution of our state has the 
government the right to injure labor by deporting 
the laboring men outside of its borders, as was the 
case under the administration of Governor Peabody. 
Surely men can be made to behave themselves in 
this civilized age by enforcing the law without such 
a barbarous measure as deportation. If there be 
any truth in the theory of evolution as taught by 
its greatest apostle, Herbert Spencer, that all things 
are growing better, more perfect, on the whole, 
although there are times when such does not seem 
to be the case, this conflict of labor and capital will 
be compromised by the yielding of both in a meas- 
ure. The frequent failure of modern labor strikes 
only seem to presage that day. At least we are 
among those who look upon the bright side of the 
problem. 



Some Characters of Animals Which 
Are Common to Man 

First, intelligence. Mr. John Burroughs, who 
has a small farm in the back-woods of the state of 
New York, has spent a great deal of time in the 
study and writing up of the habits of animals ; but, 
doubtless, the animals he studied had not come in 
contact with man to any great extent, for he greatly 
depreciates their intelligence. He seems given to a 
bent in that direction. 

To show the grotesque ignorance of some ani- 
mals, an instance is given by him of a cow cited by 
Hamerton, which would not give down her milk 
unless she had her calf before her. 

"But her calf had died, so the herdsman took the 
skin of the calf and stuffed it with hay, and stood it 
up before her. Instantly she proceeded to lick it and 
to yield her milk. One day, in licking it, she ripped 
open the seam, and out rolled the hay. This at once 
the mother proceeded to eat, without a look of sur- 
prise or alarm." 

On the other hand, Mr. Romanes has written a 
large book upon animal intelligence, in which he 
takes the opposite view, doubtless because, to some 
extent h'e is an evolutionist. In this he shows the 
oneness of mind in man and other animals. "His 
definition of mind is the power of learning— the 
capacity of improving by experience." He cites 
many examples, from the snail up to the monkey, to 
prove this capacity. 



208 CHARACTERISTICS OF ANIMALS 

In our pony and dug shows and in manageries 
we have all witnessed the remarkable intelligence of 
dogs, horses, seals, elephants and other animals. 

FRIENDSHIP AMONG ANIMALS 

I will cite some cases of queer animal friendships. 
Why married folk so ill-mated as to agree only to 
differ should be said to lead a cat-and-dog life is not 
very clear, since those household pets, being affec- 
tionate, cheerful and sociable creatures, very fre- 
quently continue to live harmoniously together. The 
Aston cat, that ate, associated and slept with a huge 
blood hound, only did what innumerable cats have 
done. Many equine celebrities have delighted in 
feline companions, following in this the example of 
their notable ancestor, the Godolphin Arab, between 
whom and a black cat an intimate friendship existed 
for years, a friendship that came to a touching end ; 
for when that famous steed died, the cat refused to 
be comforted, but pined away and died also. 

Lemmery shut up a cat and several mice together 
in a cage. The mice in time got to be very friendly, 
and plucked and nibbled at their feline friend. When 
any of them grew troublesome, she would gently box 
their ears. 

A pair of carriage horses taken to water at a 
stone trough were followed by a dog who was in 
the habit of lying in the stall of one of them. As 
he gamboled on in front, the creature was suddenly 
attacked by a mastiff far too strong fur his power of 
resistance, and it would have gone hard with him 
but for the unlooked-for intervention ^>\ his stable 
companion, which, breaking loose from the man who 
was leading it, made for the battling dogs, and with 
one well-delivered kick sent the mastiff into a cellar, 
and then quietly returned to the trough and finished 
his drink. 

\\ heii Cowper cautiously introduced a have that 



CHARACTERISTICS OF ANIMALS 209 

had never seen a spaniel to a dog of this breed that 
had never seen a hare, he discovered no token of fear 
in the one, no sign of hostility in the other, and the 
new acquaintances were soon in all respects sociable 
and friendly — a proof, the poet thought, that there 
was no natural antipathy between dog and hare. 

Says one in Chambers' Journal, to which maga- 
zine I am greatly indebted for the above illustrations 
of animal friendship : "The last time we visited the 
lion house, we watched, with no little amusement, 
the antics of a dog, who was evidently quite at home 
in a cage occupied by a tiger and tigeress. The noble 
pair of beasts were reclining side by side, the tiger's 
tail hanging over the side of the couch. The dog, 
unable to resist the temptation, laid hold of it with 
its teeth and pulled with a will, in spite of sundry 
remonstrances on the part of the owner of the tail, 
until he elicited a deep growl of disapproval. Then 
he let go, sprang upon the tiger's side, curled him- 
self up and went to sleep. 

THE MORAL SENSE OF THE LOWER ANIMALS 

All the definitions of the moral sense apply to 
an equivocal mental attribute in the lower animals. 
Thus the moral sense in man has been defined by 
different authors to be or to include : 

First — "A knowledge, appreciation or sense of 
a "Right and wrong. 
"Good and evil. 
c "Justice and injustice. 

Second — "Conscience, involving feelings of 
approbation, or the reverse in relation to ideas of 
right and wrong. 

Third — "The approval of what is conducive to 
well-being, and the disapproval of the reverse. 

Fourth — "A sense of duty and of moral obliga- 
tion. 



210 CHARACTERISTICS OF ANIMALS 

Fifth — -"Appreciation of the results of honesty 
and dishonesty. 

Sixth — "Virtue or virtuousness, including espe- 
cially such moral virtues as consciousness, scrupul- 
ousness, integrity, compassion, benevolence, fidelity, 
charity, mercy, magninimity, disinterestedness and 
modesty." 

There is not one of these moral qualities that is 
not possessed sometimes in a high degree by certain 
of the lower animals, and more especially the dog. 

There are many authors who are willing to grant 
them morality akin to that of man ; high authorities 
at that, such as Agassiz, Froude and Shaftbury. The 
dog, at least, frequently exhibits a knowledge of 
right and wrong, making a deliberate choice of the 
one or the other, perfectly aware of and prepared 
for the consequences of such a selection. The animal 
has occasionally the moral courage to choose the 
right and to suffer for it, to fear wrong rather than 
do it. One of the evidences is that it looks at once 
for some sign of his master's approbation. 

Temptation frequently begets in the dog, cat and 
other animals some kind of mental or moral agita- 
tion, and the same sort of result, as in man. Some- 
times we can see, in the dog, for instance, the whole 
play of the animal's mind — the battle between its 
virtuous and vicious propensities, its promptings to 
the right and its endeavors to stick to the right ; its 
longing for the wrong, for the tit-bit which it knows 
it would be wrong to steal — and the final triumph 
either of virtue or temptation. But in the dog, cat 
and other animals, the wrong-doing is accompanied 
by a perfect consciousness of the nature of their 
behavior. They are quite aware of being engaged 
in actions that will bring inevitable punishment, 
which penalty, moreover, they are sensible they 
deserve. 



CHARACTERISTICS OP ANIMALS 211 

"Abundant evidence of a consciousness of wrong- 
doing is to be found either generally in the 

First — "Pricks, stings, or pangs of conscience. 

Second — "The various expressions of a sense of 
guilt, for instance, the 
a "Sneaking gait, 
b "Depressed head, ears and tail, 
c "Temporary disappearance, 
d "Permanent absconding. 

Third — "The multiform exhibition of contrition, 
regret, repentance, self-reproach, remorse. 
Or more specially in the 

Fourth — "Efforts at reconciliation and pardon. 

Fifth — "Various forms of making atonement. 

Sixth — "Concealment of crime or its proofs. 

"Conscience is frequently as severe a monitor in 
other animals as in man; its reproaches as stinging 
and as hard to be borne; its torments sometimes 
intolerable." 

We may speak quite correctly, for instance, of 
the conscience-stricken animal thief — the cat or 
dog — caught in the act of pilfering from the larder. 
A female dog having once eaten a quantity of 
shrimps intended for her master's dinner sauce, had, 
only to be asked ever after, "Who stole the shrimps ?" 
to cause her to take to ignominous flight, ears and 
tail down, going to bed, refusing to be comforted, 
the picture of shame and remorse. 

A young dog having committed some offense 
against the established rules of its master's house- 
hold, "after we had shaken our heads at him and 
turned away, although he must have been very hun- 
gry, would not touch his food, but sat close to the 
door whining and crying, till we made up with him 
by telling him he was forgiven, and taking his offered 
paw, when he ate his supper and went quietly to 
bed." 



212 CHARACTERISTICS OF ANIMALS 



committed by man not only on themselves or their 
fellows, but even on brother man; and this sense of 
wrong or injury inflicted upon others leads some- 
times to their defense of man against his fellow 
man. 

A case happened recently in Ireland of a pet cow 
that defended its mistress against the ill-usage of its 
master, its mistress' husband; and many instances 
have been recorded of the dog, elephant and horse 
doing similar kindness to their human favorites. 

The dog, horse, mule, elephant and other animals 
have frequently a distinct sense, feeling or knowl- 
edge of duty, trust or task; and this not only as 
regards their own personal obligations, but in so far 
as duty of various kinds is attachable to other indi- 
viduals of the same species and those of man him- 
self — when, for instance, such duty of man's has any 
immediate reference to or connection with them- 
selves. 

The working elephant, for instance, requires that 
the nature of its work should be explained to it, to 
as great an extent as possible demonstratively by 
illustration. It very quickly and readily compre- 
hends what it is that man wishes and expects it to d< \ 
and it very soon learns to execute its task without 
supervision, bringing to the discharge of its duty 
much zeal and obvious dread of failure. 

The dog frequently makes duty and its discharge 
paramount to all other considerations. To it are 
sacrificed even revenge, on the cue hand, or tempta- 
tions to the pursuit of game, or to access to Food, on 
the other. Death itself is sometimes preferred to 
the desertion of a trust or charge. When on duty, 
a dog intrusted with a message from a master very 
literally places "business before pleasure;'" its self- 
control may even prevent desirable or necessary self- 
defense. It has to be remarked that the moral vir- 



CHARACTERISTICS OF ANIMALS 213 

tues are illustrated mainly by or in those animals 
that have directly or indirectly received their moral 
training from man — such animals as the dog, ele- 
phant and horse. As a general rule (to which there 
are exceptions both in man and other animals) the 
human child and the young animal can equally be 
educated both to distinguish and to do the right. 

And yet, notwithstanding these wonderful char- 
acteristics, animals, as well as men, are guilty of 
various crimes which is favorable to the doctrine of 
evolution and the oneness of mind. 

CRIME AMONG ANIMALS 

The gulf which philosophers of former centuries 
created between men and animals no longer exists, 
the theory of evolution and mental philosophy having 
shown that there is no break in the long chain of 
living beings. No science has been more useful in 
showing the universal fraternity existing between all 
living beings than general psycology; no discovery 
made by the human mind has been so great as that 
which has led man to recognize a part of himself 
throughout the whole realm of nature, even in the 
humblest of animals. If there be any truth in the 
doctrine of evolution, from what we know of the 
higher animals, their noble traits, their docility, their 
patience and their affection, we would not, from this 
source of information, expect man to be totally 
depraved, totally devoid of good qualities. Neither 
would we expect him to be perfect. We would 
expect him to carry along with him the infirmities 
and somewhat of the criminality of his ancestors, the 
lower animals. 

This is why the school of criminal anthropology, 
founded by Professor Lombroso, the eminent Italian 
savant, has endeavored to discover in the animal 
species the origin of the mysterious and terrible 
phenomenon we call "crime." Nevertheless, many 

15— 



214 CHARACTERISTICS OF ANIMALS 

of the examples given by him cannot be regarded as 
real crimes, as they are solely the result of the strug- 
gle for existence. Anyway, we shall find that ani- 
mals do become guilty of real crimes, when, with- 
out the slightest necessity, they commit actions which 
are hurtful to their species or companions. Among 
animals, as among men, there are individuals which 
are incapable of living and satisfying their wants 
without doing some harm to their fellows; therefore, 
they are abnormal and criminal beings, for their 
actions do not tend to ensure the prosperity of their 
species. Almost every form and variety of human 
crime is thus to be found among animals. 

Cases of theft are noticed among bees, for 
instance. Buchner speaks of thievish bees which, in 
order to save themselves the trouble of working, 
attack well-stocked hives in masses, kill the sentinels 
and the inhabitants, rob the hives, and carry off the 
provisions. 

"After repeated enterprises of this description, 
they acquire a taste for robbery and violence ; they 
recruit whole companies which get more and more 
numerous, and finally they form regular colonies of 
brigand-bees. But it is still a more curious fact that 
these brigand-bees can be produced artificially by giv- 
ing working-bees a mixture of honey and brandy to 
drink. The bees soon acquire a taste for this bever- 
age, which has the same disastrous effect upon them 
as upon men. They become ill-disposed and irritable, 
and lose all desire to work; and, finally, when they 
begin to feel hungry, they attack and plunder the 
well-supplied hives of others." 

There is one variety of bees which lives exclu- 
sively upon plunder. They may thus be said to be 
examples of innate and organic criminality among 
insects, and they represent what Professor Lombroso 
calls the born criminals — that is, individuals which 
are led to crime by their own organic constitution. 



CHARACTERISTICS OF ANIMALS 215 

Real instances of theft may also be observed 
among pigeons in the artificial communities formed 
by dove-cotes. It has been remarked that in almost 
every dove-cote there are individuals which try to 
obtain the material necessary to build their nests by 
extracting it from the heap of straws collected by 
the others for that purpose; in short, they try to 
procure what they need at their neighbor's expense, 
rather than go in search of it themselves. Moreover, 
these thieves show themselves lazy, idle and bad 
carriers, flying slowly, and often losing their way, 
so that they are not to be relied upon. Thus, the 
same physiological characteristics is to be found 
among these thieves, as among those of human 
species — the inability to work. 

Nor is murder wanting among animals : that is 
to say, not murder such as is caused by the exigencies 
of the struggle for life, but murder committed under 
the influence of individual malice or passion. Ani- 
mals which kill others of their own species are guilty 
of a true criminal act when they do so for any other 
reason than that of self-defense. Thus Karl Vogt 
has observed a couple of storks that had for several 
years built their nests in a village near Solette. 

"One day it was noticed that when the male was 
out in search of food, another young bird began to 
court the female. At first he was repulsed, then tol- 
erated, and welcomed. At last, one morning the two 
birds flew away to the field where the husband was 
hunting for frogs, and killed him." 

According to Riehm, storks often murder the 
members of the flock which either refuse to follow 
them at the time of migration or are not able to do 
so. Parrots will sometimes attack their companions 
and crush their skulls by repeated blows from their 
beaks. Houzeau has noticed among man-like mon- 
keys (especially among the females in menageries) 
that they treat each other with the greatest cruelty, 



216 CHARACTERISTICS OF ANIMALS 

and sometimes even kill each other. It is a peculiar 
feeling of hatred for the individuals of their own sex 
which often leads them to murder. 

Infanticide is a crime of very frequent occurrence 
among animals. In almost all zoological species we 
find females which refuse to be burdened with the 
bringing up of their young. Sometimes they aban- 
don, and sometimes they kill them. There is no 
doubt that these are instances of real criminals. 

Segnior Muccioli noticed a dove in his dove-cote 
which "killed the young of every brood by crushing 
their skulls with her beak." Professor Lombroso 
has seen a hen which used to make a selection among 
her young similar to that made by the Spartans — she 
killed the feeble and lame chicks, and only brought 
up those which were healthy and strong. 

Crimes caused by mental alienation are also to be 
found among the more intelligent species — crimes 
very much like those caused by madness in man. 
Thus among elephants there are instances in which 
individuals are seized with a desire to kill other 
elephants and men, without provocation, whereas 
normally the elephant has an extremely meek and 
peaceable character. In India, where one has been 
expelled from its herd, the morbid state of mind 
is attributed to the solitude in which they live. One 
is tempted to attribute this condition to a form of 
hysteria, owing to its origin in solitude, and to that 
total change in the animal's whole existence which 
attends the passage from social life to loneliness. 

Another kind of crime has been observed in a 
certain kind of ants. Female combatants often, 
after a fight, fall into a passionate fury, in which 
they blindly try to bite everything — around — their 
companions, and even the slaves, who endeavor t" 
calm them by seizing their feet and holding them 
until their lit of rage shall have passed off. This 
is something analogous to the mail thirst for Moot!, 



CHARACTERISTICS OF ANIMALS 217 

the feverish desire to kill, that sometimes seizes 
men in time of war. 

Rodent says that "in every regiment of cavalry 
one may always find some horses which rebel 
against discipline, and let no opportunity escape 
them of doing harm, either to man or to their com- 
panions. What is more curious, these horses are 
said to present an anomily in the formation of their 
skulls, having a narrow and retreating forehead." 

Arabs will not admit to their stables the off- 
spring of horses which are thus affected. This fact 
might lead us to suspect that the phenomena which 
relate to the hereditary nature of criminal instincts 
are not observable in the human species only. Other 
facts, indeed, could be quoted in support of this 
hypothesis to prove that the laws of criminal hered- 
ity are the same in man and in animals. 

Thus all the phenomena of human crime are 
found among the animal species, but on a smaller 
scale. The animals are in a certain sense less crim- 
inal than man. 

Man is, indeed, the most ferocious of all beings. 
However, there is nothing to astonish us in this. 
Man is capable of attaining a higher degree of evil 
than any other animal, but he is also capable of 
reaching a higher degree of good. The cause of 
this is higher intelligence. Intelligence is an instru- 
ment that can be wielded for good, as well as evil. 
Man has had to pay for his immense pre-eminence 
in good by a pre-eminence in evil. The one 
superiority implies the other, and the species which 
produces the greatest heroes cannot fail, on the other 
hand, to produce the greatest criminals. 

For the latter above observations I am greatly 
indebted to the writings of one William Ferrero. 



The Transmission of Acquired 
Characters 

An acquired character is one that is not con- 
genitial, but has arisen, no matter how, since the 
birth of the organism possessing it. It is not 
difficult to understand how physical characters are 
transmitted by heredity, but it is not so easy to see 
how mind or mental characteristics could be, as 
mind is ordinarily understood — that is, as an inde- 
pendent entity. Let us see, then, if we cannot find 
a more intimate connection between mind and body 
than is generally supposed to exist. 

In the first place, it is necessary to show that 
our sensations, which are functions of the nerve 
tissue and harbingers of mind, have a modifying 
influence upon the brain and nervous system, and 
that an important connection is thereby established 
between mind and body. The establishment of this 
connection commences right away after birth, so 
that it is not a prenatal one. It grows out of the 
effects of sensations upon the brain and nerve. Sen- 
sations are both general, such as proceed from the 
general surface of the body, and special, such as 
proceed from the special senses — hearing, seeing, 
smell and taste. "Whenever an impression enters 
the body from without," so says William James, of 
Harvard, "the only thing it can do is to find its 
way out. In doing this, it makes a path, and this 
path it leaves behind it." This is an important 
matter, as we shall see. for this is a material path, 



TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 219 

and is a more or less fixed and permanent one. No 
matter, for the present, what the path taken may 
have been, the nutrition along this route in the 
brain, or nerve substance, is altered — altered 
through the agency of the current of sensation. 
Other sensations — that is, sensations of different 
orders — leave their own routes behind them. When 
we consider the multitude of sensations to which the 
new-born infant is subjected, we see how the brain 
early begins to fill with routes or paths for sensa- 
tions. 

Thus we see how, by experience, the mind trav- 
els paths or along lines of its own creation. These 
routes not only establish a connection between mind 
and body, but give origin to habit, or future con- 
duct, since a second sensation, by reason of a 
peculiarity of the brain tissue, travels more readily 
in an already established route and deepens it, so to 
speak. What habits are to the man, you all know. 
You know that they constitute the great part of the 
man himself; they are his acquired nature. "Our 
sensations lead to preceptions, comparisons, reasons, 
and intellect, feeling and will, which also open still 
other routes, and by nutrition taking place along 
these routes, the brain grows to our habits of think- 
ing, feeling and acting," so says Dr. Carpenter. 

For convenience sake, we speak of routes, or 
paths, in the brain, which is all right as far as it 
goes ; but there are modifications of brain tissue in 
addition — modifications through nutrition in corela- 
tion to mental activities. The permanency of the 
modifications are due to the fact that they are pre- 
served by nutrition, just as a scar on a boy's face 
is perpetuated through life. We see the permanency 
of these modifications in the faculty of memory. 
Suffice it to say, the events of childhood may endure 
in the memory throughout life. It is a question, in 
fact, whether a modification once wrought deeply in 



220 TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 

the brain ever entirely disappears. It may lie long 
dormant, but is the cause of it entirely beyond the 
power of recall, since the modification is the record 
of that cause? 

It requires time for the completion of these 
modifications. This we see from the effect of' 
certain head injuries. It is a matter of record that 
the memory not only fails for subsequent events, in 
such cases, but that preceding ones, for a day or so, 
have been forgotten. This shows that nutrition had 
not had time to effect its full modification in the 
brain. I dislike the words "impressions" or ''pic- 
tures" as upon the retina, for instance, as they are 
misleading. I prefer the word "modification" as 
more intelligible. These modifications are material 
changes wrought in the brain substance, rendered 
such by the part played through nutrition, which is 
a material process. But is not this materialism? If 
so, the mind is the author of its own materializa- 
tion. It is true, the mind, or mental activities, 
ingrain themselves into the intimate anatomy of the 
brain, so that our ideas in this way become organ- 
ized or builded into the brain substance, constituting 
a modification thereof, the revivability of these ideas 
being dependent upon these modifications, which 
are their records. This is the conclusion reached by 
the most advanced physicologist and physiologist, 
and this is what we want to impress. This makes 
the body a part of our intellectual and moral char- 
acters. The thought that our bodies should be a 
part of onr characters may be a novel one, but it is 
an inevitable conclusion, and it enables us to see 
that the possibility of inheriting menial character- 
istics is not beyond reason. 

To show the iniluence of the mind upon the 
body, although it is a digression, I will mention the 
fact that had news is frequently followed by a spell 
of illness, showing the intimacy ^i the connection. 



TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 221 

The modifications referred to are not only in 
the interior of the brain, effecting its minute anat- 
omy, but apply to the surface of that organ as well, 
and are visible to the naked eye, post-mortem, of 
course. There is quite a difference in the superficial 
markings of the brains of civilized men and those 
of savages, the former being deeply fissured, so as 
to increase the surface, or thinking part, of that 
organ, those of the others being comparatively 
smooth, so say anatomists. 

If sensations and the mind, which they arouse, 
can work such changes in the brain, of which there 
can be no question, why should they be thought 
incapable of impressing themselves upon the body 
in such wise as to develop in the off-spring mental 
characteristics, though entirely acquired by the 
parents ? 

In view of the modifications wrought in the body 
by the mind, these do not go to establish the trans- 
mission of ancestral characteristics. There must be 
some chain independent of the newly developed 
mind of the infant. We speak of it as developed, 
for the surroundings of the individual and the sen- 
sations proceeding therefrom, which pour in upon 
the new brain, have the effect of developing mind 
(we do not say of creating it), so that prior to this 
there was, presumably, no mind at all, or only a 
dormant one, or the potentialities of one, at least. 

By what chain, then, were ancestral treasures 
inherited. Though there was no active mind, yet 
there was an organ of mind, a material sub- 
stratum — the infant brain — in which were stored 
the potentialities of mind, ready to be developed by 
fitting influences. A wonderful organ is the infant 
brain, an organ in which are materialized, some- 
what, at least, the tendencies to, or tastes for knowl- 
edge, the dispositions, the effects of the experiences 
and labors of our ancestors for a thousand years or 



222 TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 

more. The effects these experiences have succes- 
sively bequeathed are principle and interest, and 
have slowly amounted to that high intelligence 
which lies latent in the brain of the infant. With- 
out such a store-house in which are treasured up 
the precious culture and experiences of our ances- 
tors, just as are stored in our own brains the modi- 
fications wrought by our own experiences, the trans- 
mission of character of any kind could not occur. 

As it is, it is evident that a great part of the 
culture and inherited experiences of our ancestors 
are wholly lost, lost to the world forever; but we 
cannot but believe that much, much that is whole- 
some and precious, is saved and passed on to pos- 
terity. 

If this doctrine be true, even in a measure only. 
the great and important truth which should ever be 
present in the minds of parents, is that they should 
develop and train their mental and moral powers 
for the benefit of their offspring, if not for their own 
good. 

As it is, the world has made slow enough 
progress in enlightenment, morality and civiliza- 
tion. Had we inherited all the intelligence, skill 
and morals of our ancestors, we would have trans- 
cended the limits of our species, and would have 
been creatures other than we are, notwithstanding 
the disadvantages might have more than offset the 
gain. We hope these preliminary observations, by 
giving our theme a physical basis, have prepared the 
way for a more intelligible consideration of our sub- 
ject, the transmission of acquired character by 
heredity. 

Professor August Weismann, of Freiburg, has 
essayed to prove that what biologists call acquired 
character is not hereditary, and has made himself 
the leading champion of this doctrine. Prior to 
this, Lamark held the opposite view. He believed 



TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 223 

that the children of a man who gives himself to 
learning will have better heads than if the father 
had been a soldier or professional cricketer. 

Now, this view is held today by the great major- 
ity of common people, and yet this is the very view 
that a goodly number of biologists, on theoretical 
grounds, have set themselves to combat. Weismann 
confines himself chiefly to animals and the modi- 
fications that take place in their physical structure, 
and maintains that wherever such modifications 
descend to the offspring of such animals, they can- 
not have been acquired by the animals during their 
lives, but must have previously existed in a latent 
state in their reproductive germs, and have been 
handed down from ancestors more or less remote. 
Inasmuch as Weismann was an evolutionist, it is 
strange that he did not see that the existence of such 
modifications must have been acquired by those 
remote ancestors. 

Mr. Francis Galton had anticipated Weismann 
in the expression of similar views, but he made them 
less absolute, and did not insist upon them with so 
great emphasis. He applied them, too, chiefly to 
man, and dealt with mental as well as physical quali- 
ties. Weismann seemed to think that, according to 
the view of his opponent, a child of an accomplished 
pianist ought to inherit the faculty of playing on 
that instrument. Whereas it is perfectly true, that 
the children of accomplished pianists do not inherit 
the art of playing the piano. But the art of playing 
that instrument is really a form of knowledge, and 
no one has ever maintained that knowledge can be 
tiansmitted. "It is necessary to distinguish sharply 
between knowledge and the capacity for acquiring 
knowledge," so says Mr. Lester F. Ward. It is this 
latter only that has been generally believed to be 
hereditary. This point seems, therefore, to be 
wholly irrelevant in Weismann's theory. It is, 



224 TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 

nevertheless, true that in England perhaps one-half 
of the biologists have subscribed to the Weismann 
doctrine. 

That the process of heredity should be operative 
after modifications are wrought in the nervous sys- 
tem by the mind is what we have just been insisting 
on; but why it should be effective only after the 
intellectual part had lapsed out, as claimed, and 
actions become automatic, we cannot see, and there 
are but few followers of this theory. At the same 
time these few admit that disease, poison, and the 
effects of starvation, may be transmitted. 

J. Mark Baldwin and Groose favor a theory 
that they call organic selection, meaning thereby 
that instinct in animals is patched out by inteli- 
gence, which is acquired by imitation and experi- 
ence, and that this exerts a modifying influence upon 
the nervous system, so that the intelligence lapses 
out, and that this modification may be inherited. But 
this modification is an acquisition, and the passing 
of it by inheritance does not change the theory of 
the transmission of acquired characters. Whilst 
among the sceptical there are many of the most dis- 
tinguished philosophers, nevertheless the Weismann 
doctrine has a great number of opponents of whom 
I mention only Haeckle, Eimer, Nilser, Hertroig, 
Romanes, Herbert Spencer, Wundt, Sully and 
Ribot. Weismann himself, in 1886, admitted that 
monads, which are propogated by mere division, 
may inherit acquired characters. He also admitted 
the possibility of modifying the germ plasm by 
changing nutriment and temperature. 

So long as the question is confined to the lower 
forms of life, it must be confessed that the defenders 
of the transmissibility of acquired character arc 
placed at a disadvantage, but that is on account of 
the difficulty introduced by natural selection. But 
when the human species is to lie treated, the tables 



TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 225 

are in a manner turned. It is in the faculties of the 
mind that we find really the strong claims of those 
who advocate the doctrine of the inheritance of 
acquired qualities, or post-natal increments to facul- 
ties already existing. Dr. Wallace believes them to 
consist chiefly of the mathematical, the esthetic ; but 
he also properly mentions the power of abstract 
reasoning, the metaphysical faculty or talent for 
abstruse speculation, and the moral and ethical 
attributes. 

Others might be enumerated, such as the talents 
for scientific observations, for mechanical inven- 
tions, and literary research, and others still by which 
knowledge has been increased. These have become 
to civilized and enlightened man not only the most 
advantageous of all his possessions, for the mind is 
his chief weapon, and the dominant mark by which 
he is distinguished from the animal world below 
him. More than any and all physical distinctions 
this constitutes him man. 

On the other hand, Mr. Galton, although leaning 
strongly against the doctrine of transmission of 
acquired qualities, has in his "Hereditary Genius," 
and other works, ably shown from concrete exam- 
ples that high qualities of mind tend to run in par- 
ticular families, and has done much to disprove the 
popular notion relied on by Weismann. In this he 
has done much to establish the doctrine of the trans- 
mission of acquired characters. In the same line 
with Galton, M. Alphonse de Condolle has collected 
an additional mass of facts in support of the view 
that talents tend to persist in certain families, or 
lines of descent. But aside entirely from all 
abstruse theories as to how heredity takes place, we 
have at least the following general facts which can 
be best explained by the theory of the transmission 
of acquired qualities, viz : a large number of greatly 
specialized mental attributes which have made their 



226 TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 

appearance in man, and which themselves are clearly 
hereditary, notwithstanding parental crossing. 

"If Professor YVeismann and his followers are 
right, education has no value for the future of man- 
kind, and its benefits are confined exclusively to the 
generation receiving it. But the belief, though 
vague, has been somewhat general that a part, at 
least, of what is gained in the direction of develop- 
ing and strengthening the faculties of the mind, 
through their life-long exercise in special fields, is 
permanently preserved to the race by hereditary 
transmission to posterity of the acquired increment. 
We have seen that all the facts of history and of 
personal observation sustain this comforting popular 
belief, and until the doctors of science shall cease to 
differ on this point and shall reduce the laws of 
heredity to a degree of exactness which shall amount 
to something more like a demonstration than the 
current speculation, it may perhaps be as well to 
continue for a time to hug this delusion/' so says 
Mr. Ward. 

Of course, if it could be demonstrated how much 
of our characters were inherited, and what particu- 
lars were wholly acquired, there would be no room 
for a paper of this kind. Lombroso, in an article on 
the heredity of acquired characteristics, says this is 
an important subject in aiding us to decide whether 
we can profit organically, so to speak, by the actions 
of our fathers, i. e., whether the labor of the past 
can be accumulated and transformed into labor that 
may be called organic, or whether such labor must 
be wholly lost. Says he: ''Especially during the 
last five years, every new publication referring to 
this subject has given stronger evidence of the 
heredity of acquired traits, thus tending to support 
Herbert Spencer against Weismann. I have gone 
a step further in which I show that even our ges- 
tures are inherited from our ancestors of thousands 



TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 227 

of years ago. It suffices to mention the attitude of 
prayer, by which the conquered stretch out their 
hands and bend their knees, to show that they are 
unarmed and ready to allow themselves to be bound, 
endeavor thus to disarm the ferocity of the conquer- 
ors. Now, this gesture, which we see repeated so 
many times in the Egyptian and Chaldean sculpture, 
I have seen reproduced instinctively by one of my 
own children not yet two years old, when speechless 
from illness, who invoked our pity by gestures never 
learned. 

"Moreover," says' he, "does not the North 
American offer the best evidence of the heredity of 
newly acquired character, both physical and 
psychical ? The skin has become darker, the orbits 
larger, the neck longer, the head smaller and more 
rounded, the fingers longer than those of his Anglo- 
Saxon fathers ; and as to his moral nature, it is well 
known how much he has changed the British type. 
The overwhelming reverence of the English for 
tradition and historic formalism has been replaced 
by a true passion for modernity, and these traits are 
transmitted by heredity." 

But it is easier to find facts which prove that 
physical characteristics acquired have been heredi- 
tarily transmitted. Take first the fact that in Massa- 
chusetts a certain breed of sheep, known as the Otto, 
rose from a short-legged lamb. It was supposed 
that this short-leggedness would be an advantage, in 
preventing them from leaping hedges which abound 
in that neighborhood; so this characteristic was 
perpetuated by careful breeding. 

Take next the mutilation of cutting off a tail — a 
mutilation which is generally not transmitted. Yet 
a certain number of cats were exhibited in Germany 
sometime ago without tails. These cats inherited 
their taillessness from the mother, which had lost 
hers by the passage of a cart-wheel over it. It is 



228 TRANSMISSIOX OF CHARACTERS 

well known that there is a tailless race of cats in 
the Isle of Man. As to the first origin of the tail- 
lessness of the Manx cats, as they are called, we are 
ignorant, but know that the anomoly has been trans- 
mitted until they constitute the dormant race in that 
island. 

A few years ago a case occurred near Jena, 
Germany, in which, by a careless slamming of a 
stable door, the tail of a bull was wrenched off, and 
the calves begotten by this bull were born without 
a tail. 

A very striking instance* is furnished by the 
hornless cattle of Paraguay, in South America. A 
special race of oxen is there bred which is entirely 
without horns. It is descended from a single bull 
which was born without horns as a result of some 
unknown cause. All the descendants of this bull 
produced with a horned cow were entirely without 
horns. At present this hornless race has almost 
entirely supplanted the horned cattle in Paraguay. 

The next case I will cite is that given by Dr. 
Struthers, to-wit, an example of hereditary digital 
variation: "Esther P., who had six fingers on one 
hand, bequeathed this malformation along some 
lines of her descendants for two, three and four 
generations." 

The last of the illustrations of this nature i will 
mention is the genesis of an acquired characteristic 
which has become hereditary in the race : It is that 
sort of fatty appendage attached to the rump and 
flanks of the Hottentot women, on which their 
infants are supported, while they themselves are 
busied in work. Evidence on this point shows thai 
in the Hottentot, fatty tissue abounds all over the 
body, forming a new appendage where pressure and 
irritation are greatest. 

But, after all, a single proof will suffice to show 
the acquirement of physical characteristics. Civil- 



TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 229 

ized man has acquired in the cerebral surface, the 
physical center of reading, which, in apoplexy, is 
paralyzed, causing reading-power to disappear. 
"Now this center," so says Lombroso, "has posi- 
tively been acquired within historic time; it cer- 
tainly is not found yet in savages." 

The same may be said of the speech center, the 
third left frontal convolution, since everything goes 
to prove that the first man had no language, just as 
the new-born child has no language, and the Hotten- 
tots and the Weddahs have but very imperfect ones. 

Where can be found stronger evidence that there 
are acquired physical characteristics, which are 
transmitted by inheritance? 

Weismann met with great opposition. One of 
his most noted opponents was Herbert Spencer, who 
engaged him in fierce controversy and showed up 
his fallacies greatly to his disadvantage. They 
engaged in hot debates, largely on account of the 
structures of lower animals and plants, overlooking 
to a great extent the higher characteristics of man. 
"The circumstance," said Spencer, "that the tend- 
ency to repetition of like forms in heredity is, in a 
great degree, qualified by the tendency to variation. 
No two plants are indistinquishable, and no two ani- 
mals are without differences. Variation is 
co-existent with heredity." 

Examples of this statement are too numerous 
to mention. The experiences of agriculturists, 
gardeners and breeders of animals show us, in a 
marked manner, the hereditary transmission of 
small differences. But the clearest proof that struc- 
tural alterations by alterations of function are in- 
herited occurs when the alterations are morbid. 
Witness the result of Brown-Sequards experiments 
on guinea-pigs, showing that those which had been 
artifically made epileptic had offspring which were 
epileptic. 



230 TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 

I will barely mention disease, although it is a 
strong point in the premises, for we all know full 
well that diseases are hereditary, notwithstanding 
they may have been acquired by the immediate 
parents, such as Consumption, Syphilis, Rheuma- 
tism; also nervous diseases, such as Epilepsy, 
Chorea and Insanity. We will not dwell upon the 
hereditary character of disease, as there are more 
pleasant aspects to our subject. Spencer proved a 
strong advocate of the transmission of acquired 
characters in man. He believed it to be a necessary 
part of general evolution. He thought the inheri- 
tance of the best qualities of our ancestors necessary 
to carry us upward in our career of evolution. 
Either there has been inheritance of acquired char- 
acters or there has been no evolution. Even Weis- 
mann admits that the average of mental power is 
increasing, although very gradually. How he could 
have conceded this, holding the views he did, I can- 
not for the lfe of me imagine. It was to Spencer's 
influence that many phychologists were confirmed in 
the doctrine he advocated, although many of them 
were of his opinion prior to his teaching, versus that 
of the biologists. Weismann speaks of a pre-dis- 
position in the germ as though it were not an 
acquired tendency; as though it were not equivalent 
to what his opponents claim. 

In later years, however, Weismann has made 
great concessions. Mr. Ward says of him: "I trust 
it has been sufficient, chiefly from his own words. 
that in elaborating his complicated theory. Professor 
Weismann has, greatly to his credit, conceded all 
the essential points in the long controversy as to the 
inheritance of acquired characters." He has proven 
a heroic champion of his cause and fought bravely 
for its maintenance. He certainly had a profound 
knowledge of morphology, but he allowed himself. 
from theoretical reasons, to be led astray over 



TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 231 

flimsy questions concerning the lower animals, 
insects and plants. Hence, later in life, under the 
scourgings of Spencer, Carl H. Eigenmann, Lester 
F. Ward, and others, he was forced to make such 
concessions as were almost equivalent to a complete 
surrender of his theory. 

Turning again to mental characteristics, Profes- 
sor Maudsley says : "When the mental phenomena 
of one of the lowest savages are contrasted with 
those of an intelligent, civilized man, a very wide 
difference is perceived; and if a savage child and a 
child of civilized parents were subjected to the same 
external conditions from the first moment of life to 
the age of fullest vigor, it cannot be doubted that 
there would still be a vast difference between their 
mental phenomena. It is, then, a question whence 
the different degrees of value possessed by one indi- 
vidual over another has been derived. 

"The obvious answer is that the original super- 
iority of mental organization is the result of inheri- 
tance. The savage has a less capacity of acquiring 
knowledge than the civilized man, because his brain 
is fashioned after the less-developed type of the 
brains of his forefathers, while the civilized man 
inherits the superior organization and capacity of 
the brains of his forefathers. The European inherits, 
for instance, from twenty to thirty cubic inches 
more brain than the Papuan. Thus it happens that 
out of savages arise at length our Newtons and 
Shakespeares. The civilized man has a nervous sub- 
stratum in his convolution which the savage has 
not." 

We have no more reason to doubt this than to 
doubt that the pointer dog is indebted to inheritance 
for the facility with which it learns to point. 

Half a century ago, Mr. Knight made trial with 
some pointer pups, having taken great care that 
when they were first taken into the field they 



232 TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 

received no instructions from the older dogs. The 
very first day, one of the pups stood trembling with 
excitement, its eyes fixed, and all its muscles 
strained, pointing at the partridges, as its ancestors 
had been taught to do. 

Mr. Lewes gives a case in point : He had a 
puppy taken from its mother at six weeks, who, 
although never taught to beg (an accomplishment 
his mother had been taught), spontaneously took to 
begging for everything he wanted, when about eight 
months old. He would beg for food, to be let out 
of the room, and one day he was found opposite a 
rabbit hutch begging for rabbits. 

The taming by man of the animals which are 
now domesticated, without doubt cost him great 
pains originally, and had there been no tendency to 
the fixation of acquired modifications by hereditary 
transmission, he would never have succeeded in 
domesticating them. Darwin believed that the 
trained habits of dogs and horses, the tameness of 
the rabbit, and other domestic animals, were due to 
the direct and transmitted effects of man's contact. 

All the mental endowments in which we surpass 
our ancestors, and all the superiority of cerebral 
organization which such endowments imply, have 
been acquired by the accumulated effects of experi- 
ence and their transmission through generations. 
How could we have inherited the organ of mind 
without inheriting all the possibilities that go with 
that organ, acquired as well as original? 

Like remarks may be made of man's emotional 
nature. Beside the emotional nature of his kind, 
he inherits, also, the more special nature of his own 
immediate ancestors. His father and mother, his 
grandfather and grandmother, are latent or declare 
themselves in him. It is not by virtue ^\ education 
so much as by virtue of inheritance that lie is brave 
or timid, generous or selfish, prudent or reckless, 



TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 233 

quick or placid in temper; the ground tone of his 
character is original in him, it is the inherited 
nature. It is more important what a man's father 
or mother was than what his school master was. 

The acquired characters of his ancestors, mental, 
moral and bodily, may have been a result of relig- 
ion, to a great extent, and I certainly believe such 
inheritable. 

As to manual dexterity, it is alleged that the 
children of skilled artisans are, as a rule, more apt 
at petty manipulations than the children of ordinary 
laborers, and that hence, in the population of cer- 
tain towns (Birmingham, England, for example,) 
have an advantage over other towns in point of 
manufacture. 

I wish to emphasize the fact that the speed of 
trotting horses is transmitted. Horse fanciers know 
this full well and take pains that the breed is kept 
pure, and they are willing to pay large money for 
fine blood, feeling sure that the speed will go with it. 

Cows are bred for the acquired character of giv- 
ing a certain quantity of milk. The wonderful 
variety of dogs, hogs, pigeons and barnyard fowls 
is in evidence on this point, for the reason that the 
breeding animals and fowls were selected on account 
of their acquired characters. 

When we consider the real, low-down condition 
of savages of today, although they are rarely real 
representatives of primitive men, we conclude that 
the first men of the earth had the barest rudiments, 
or adumbrations, of mind, so that, apart from his 
physical organization, all that he had was acquired. 
According to the evolutionist, even his physical 
frame was acquired, so that if we have inherited 
anything, it was of an acquired character. And it 
seems to me if we preclude the inheritance of 
acquired characters, we preclude everything, except 
a minute unit of protoplasm smaller than the micro- 



234 TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 

scope reveals, and this, too, in accordance with 
Weismann's evolutionary views. 

But do we inherit anything of a mental or moral 
nature? If not, we would not have made much 
progress on the condition of the savage. We may 
not have inherited as much as many believe, but we 
are persuaded that it was much. We do not claim 
to have inherited knowledge or morals, but a tend- 
ency thereto, or aptitude therefor; an aptitude or 
talent for the pulpit, the bar, for medicine, for the 
stage, and a thousand useful and profitable employ- 
ments. Fortunate is he who is born with a procliv- 
ity to a useful vocation. 

Darwin maintained that if variations were 
adapted to external conditions and gave the animal 
an advantage in the struggle for existence, they 
would be transmitted by heredity. We will, there- 
fore, indulge in gratitude to the long line of our 
ancestors for what we are, provided, of course, we 
have some redeeming qualities in us ; some intelli- 
gence and good dispositions. For there is born in 
man an essence that makes the kind of being he is. 

On the other hand, it is established beyond doubt 
that degeneracy and acquired evil dispositions are 
transmitted by heredity. We know with almost 
equal certainty that criminality and wickedness are. 
"Where did the crime begin?" asked the warden of 
a prison. "In my ancestors," was the reply. "In 
me their weakness sunk into felony." 

We know, also, that vicious and criminal pro- 
pensities recur in some families, as a rule, with some 
exceptions and in varying degrees of depravity. A 
most remarkable example of this form of heredity 
has been traced through six generations by Dr. 
Dugdale, in the descendants of a depraved woman 
of the State of New York, named Margaret Jukes. 
Of 709 individuals, the great majority emisisted of 
murderers, thieves and idiots. 



TRANSMISSION OF CHARACTERS 235 

If wickedness and degeneracy are transmissible 
by heredity, and good disposition and talent are not, 
then nature discriminates in favor of the former as 
against the latter — a slander we cannot believe. We 
cannot conceive of anything that would render us 
more discontent with the arrangement of earthly 
affairs than to believe such discrimination is shown. 

It would make of a just God one who is partial 
to evil. Therefore, give us, by all means, the trans- 
mission of acquired characters by inheritance, good 
as well as evil, a fair mixture of both, for both are 
necessary to the development of our characters, the 
good for its direct effect, the evil to promote the 
good by affording us a combat, wherein moral 
strength may be developed; without this combat 
there could be no moral heroism, and without the 
sight of it going on, life would be flat in the extreme. 

To repeat : in order that the doctrine of this 
thesis may operate effectively, it is incumbent upon 
parents to improve themselves for the benefit of their 
posterity. 



Herbert Spencer 



As I have made frequent quotations from the 
writings of Herbert Spencer, it seems to me not 
inappropriate to set forth the manner of man he 
was. 

He was born April 2J, 1820, in Derby, Eng- 
land, a town which has since become quite a manu- 
facturing center. His father was opposed to the 
repetition of family names, claiming that it was 
foolish, as a name was intended only for identifica- 
tion. His uncle sent a letter to the child's father 
with some verses by a young poet named Herbert 
Knowles, and as the father was pleased with the 
verses, this led to the choice of the name Herbert. 
There were several other children, but all died in 
infancy. 

Herbert Spencer, in mature life, believed 
strongly, and rightly so, in the transmission by 
heredity of parental characteristics, both inborn in 
the parents and acquired by them. I shall dwell 
somewhat at length upon the main traits of his 
parents : 

His father gave some sign of inventive ability, 
and also artistic perception. In these respects his 
son was his inferior, although he did invent an 
invalid bed, a fishing-rod joint, and some kind of 
binding pins for holding sheet music in place. 

Though his father was not robust, he had a con- 
stitution which was well balanced. He was a fine 
walker, so that even after he had passed seventy, 
ladies would turn round tin the streets to watch him. 

236 



HERBERT SPENCER 237 

He was a man of very limited means, and followed 
school-teaching for a living. There was a time 
when his health broke down, and he engaged in the 
manufacture of lace, owning lace machines with his 
brothers. This continued for three years, during 
which time he lost money, after which he returned 
to teaching school again. 

His father would never take off his hat to any- 
one, no matter of what rank, and, further, he could 
not be induced to address anyone as Esquire or as 
Reverend. All his letters were addressed Mr. 
Always he would step out of the way to kick a stone 
off the pavement lest someone should trip over it. 
He would never put on any sign of mourning, even 
for father or mother. 

The father's career as a teacher dated from boy- 
hood. In dealing with transgressors, his method 
was this, i. e., to form some of the boys into a jury 
and to have the offense investigated in a judicial 
manner, finally leaving them to decide the punish- 
ment. Generally he found it needful to mitigate it. 

Absolute punctuality in his teaching appoint- 
ments was one of his traits— a trait naturally result- 
ing from that regard for other's claims, which he 
displayed in all ways. 

If he saw boys quarreling, he stopped to expos- 
tulate, and he could never pass a man who was ill- 
treating his horse without trying to make him 
behave better. 

Great firmness in carrying out what he consid- 
ered to be right was. a marked trait. He rarely ever 
yielded. 

He never changed his fashion of dress, however 
old it might seem. 

Respecting his intellectual powers, it may be 
said unusual keenness of the senses — the basis of all 
intelligence — characterized him. Improvement was 
his watchword always and everywhere. 



238 HERBERT SPENCER 

He could not dispatch a note concerning an 
appointment without first writing a rough draft and 
afterward correctly copying it. He had a great deal 
of passion for reforming the world, and was ever 
thinking of self-improvement, or of the improve- 
ment of others. 

He suffered from chronic irritability consequent 
on his nervous disorder, which continued through- 
out life. 

He wrote one book called "Inventional Geom- 
etry," which required great labor, and was very 
useful to the student. 

Concerning his mother, it may be said that she 
was brought up a Methodist, and adhered to that 
belief throughout life; but she simply accepted and 
retained the beliefs given to her in early days, and 
would have similarly accepted and retained any 
other set of beliefs. She never passed a criticism 
on a pulpit utterance, or expressed any independent 
judgment on religious, ethical or political questions. 

The trait especially named in his mother before 
her marriage was her sweetness. Generally patient, 
it was but rarely that she manifested irritation, and 
then in a very moderate manner. A trait which 
injuriously co-operated with this was an utter 
absence of tact. She was too simple-minded to 
think of maneuvering. 

The subordination element of religion was more 
dominant in her than in his father, so that the sense 
of duty was very powerful. Of his mother's intel- 
lect, there is nothing special to be said. There is 
ground for believing that she had a sound judgment 
in respect of ordinary affairs — sounder than his 
father's. 

Her son's plans and proceedings she always 
criticised discouragingly, and urged the adoption of 
some common-place career. This, doubtless, was 
owing; to the financial failure of her father. 



HERBERT SPENCER 239 

She had no interest in nature, and never gath- 
ered any scientific ideas. Briefly characterized, she 
was of ordinary intelligence and high moral nature. 

There remains only to name the one great draw- 
back of his father, and that is he was not kirid to 
her. Exacting and inconsiderate, he did not habit- 
ually display that sympathy which should character- 
ize the marital relation. 

He held that every one should speak clearly, and 
that those who did not ought to suffer the resulting 
evil. Hence, if he did not understand some ques- 
tions his wife put, he would remain silent, letting it 
go unanswered. He continued this course all 
through life; there resulted no improvement. Of 
course, such behavior tended towards chronic alien- 
ation. 

The causes which co-operated in producing this 
conduct, so at variance with his usual character, 
were, first, a great deal of passion for reforming the 
world. The other cause was chronic irritability, 
consequent to his nervous disorder, which set in 
some two or three years after marriage and contin- 
ued during the rest of his life. He was conscious of 
this abnormal lack of control over his temper; but, 
as unhappily his son could testify from personal 
experience, consciousness of such lack did not 
exclude the evil or mitigate it. 

YOUNG SPENCER'S CHILDHOOD 

His father, owing to ill health, became very 
petulent and irritable, which checked that geniality 
of behavior, or which fosters the affections and 
brings out in children the higher traits of nature. 
Had he retained good health, his son's education, 
furthermore, would have been much better than 
it was. 

Finally, his father's health became such that he 
was compelled to give up teaching, and moved off 



240 HERBERT SPENCER 

to a place called New Bedford, adjacent to a tract 
of wild land, where his son spent the remaining part 
of his childhood. There was a certain charm of 
adventure in exploring the narrow, turf-covered 
tracks, running hither and thither into all their 
nooks. Then there were blue-bells to be picked 
from among the prickly branches, which were 
flecked here and there with fragments of wool left 
by passing sheep. 

His father, thinking he was not constitutionally 
strong, allowed him to pass the greater part of this 
period without the ordinary lesson-learning. He 
concluded that his son ought not to be subject to 
school discipline at an early age. 

They resided at New Bedford three years, then 
moved back to Derby, where they lived during the 
rest of the father's life. Here his father continued 
to teach, though only giving private lessons. Here- 
tofore life as a boy continued for some time to be 
comparatively unrestrained. 

When ten years old, there was one out-door 
activity which partook of an intellectual character, 
viz. : the pursuit of entomology. A fondness for 
the study of nature in all of its varied manifestations 
was an early developed characteristic, and in long 
country rambles after specimens for his herbarium 
and entomological collections, many a delightful 
half-holiday was passed. His father encouraged 
him to make drawings of the insects he caught. In 
some cases he added discriptions of them. Initi- 
ated thus naturally, he practiced drawing through- 
out boyhood to a greater or less extent. 

Turning to more purely intellectual amusements, 
the fact may be named that he was greatly given to 
castle-building. Along with this passion may be 
named the reading of fiction, of which he became 
very fond. 'Phis was when he was not over seven 
years of a<re. 



HERBERT SPENCER 241 

His health at this time was quite satisfactory. 
The most marked moral trait was the disregard of 
authority. This continued, notwithstanding perpet- 
ual scoldings. 

Concerning intellectual traits, it may be 
remarked that then, as always, his memory was 
rather below par than above. To get a lesson by 
heart was almost intolerable, and he evinced an 
awkward dislike to accepting statements merely 
because they were set down in books. 

A related fact is that throughout boyhood, as 
in after life, he could not bear prolonged reading. 
At the same time, general information was picked 
up by him with considerable facility. 

With regard to the intellectual culture he 
received during boyhood, it may be said that his 
father, being unable personally to conduct his edu- 
cation, sent him to a day school, the first being that 
of a Mr. Mather. He was a very ordinary kind of 
teacher, who had no power of interesting his pupils 
in what they were taught. In repeating lessons, 
Herbert was habitually inefficient. If he ever said 
a lesson correctly, it was certainly very rare. He 
was exceedingly unwilling to learn the Latin gram- 
mar. He was soon sent to his uncle's school, which 
was relatively good, and led to some progress. 

His miscellaneous intellectual training was 
favorable. He was a frequent listener to discus- 
sions. His uncle or others who came to their house 
always got into conversation with his father of 
more or less instructive kinds — now on politics, 
now on religion, now on scientific matters, and now 
on questions of right and wrong. 

As at Hinton Charter House, where his uncle 
lived, a considerable portion of his youth was passed, 
something under this head seems called for : The 
daily routine was not a. trying one. In the morning 



242 HERBERT SPEXCER 

dening or sometimes a walk, while in the evening 
reading, with occasional chess. His aversion to lin- 
guistic studies still continued. He also studied both 
French and Greek, but his progress was extremely 
small. 

A letter from his uncle to his father says : 
"Herbert has learnt only twenty-four propositions 
of Sixth book in a fortnight, when he could easily 
have learned the whole book in a week." And he 
should have said he knew nothing of English gram- 
mar. After three years spent at Hinton his school 
days closed. He was then only sixteen years of 
age — an age at which mental development just 
fairly begins — and there was yet nothing to fore- 
shadow the greatness of the man that was to follow. 
We have devoted considerable space to his boyhood, 
youth and school preparation, because this is gen- 
erally the period that determines the man, but in 
this case the old theory, that development must take 
place in youth or not at all, seems to have suffered 
refutation, showing that genius may be of delayed 
development. It also affords encouragement to 
those whose early education has been neglected. 

After he left school, fourteen years elapsed 
before anything of consequence occurred to arouse 
his mental development. This was the writing of 
his first book, known as "Social Statics," he being 
then nearly thirty years of age. The writing of this 
book gave Spencer himself an unmistakable revela- 
tion of his own powers. It is true, he gained some 
experience as a railroad engineer, and in short terms 
as a writer for newspapers and at unsuccessful 
inventions, but the time was poorly spent. 

He claimed in this time to have gained some 
experience of men, which was worth something, 
and of the world, both animate and inanimate. 

A consoling thought with him was that academic 
training, as carried on, implies a forcing of the mind 



HERBERT SPENCER 243 

into shapes it would not otherwise have taken — 
implies a bending of the shoots out of their lines of 
spontaneous growth into conformity with a pat- 
tern — so that in some cases the knowledge gained 
by academic training is of less value than the 
original cost. In this position, he was confirmed by 
the statement of Edison, that in his establishment 
college-bred men were of no use, which is contrary 
to general experience. He held that the established 
systems of education encourages submissive recep- 
tivity instead of independent activity. 

During the revision of his first book, he discov- 
ered that after a lapse of time from the writing of 
a thing, corrections become much easier. Also the 
fact that the bodily health plays an important part 
in correcting. He says on one occasion he took up 
a chapter, and after reading it, said, "Good; that 
will do very well," and then in another mood he 
re-read the same, and laid it clown discontentedly. 

After writing his first book he spent an idle year, 
even reading but little, as was his custom. 

After his second book, which was when he was 
thirty-six years of age (an age prior to which most 
authors do their best work), he lost eighteen months 
on account of poor health, doing nothing but trying 
to recover. 

I will not attempt a criticism of any of his writ- 
ings, as I will have enough to do with the man him- 
self ; besides, this has been done by able men. We 
regard him as a genius, which, in our opinion, means 
an abnormal man. This is shown by his originality, 
his forgetfulness, his abnormal sensitiveness to 
noises, his nervous break-downs, and his persistent 
sleeplessness. His life was pure. He was devoted 
to truth and usefulness, and his character was 
wholly free from envy and malice (though not from 
contempt), and from the perverse egoism that so 
often goes with greatness. 



244 HERBERT SPEXCER 

As his early training had been neglected, 
whence, then, came his mental ability as a man? 
From his ancestors, so he said. His account of his 
father makes one believe in the fatality of heredity. 
He had great faith in the influence of the trans- 
mission of characteristics of ancestors, and it seems 
evident from his life, not so much in effect of 
discipline, particularly when a transmitted trait was 
to be overcome. 

In his own person, it seems he preferred to give 
inherited tendencies free scope, even though they 
went to an objectionable extent; whereas a vast 
number of men think the cultivation of character by 
discipline is the great end of life. 

It looks as though Spencer thought it useless to 
fight against hereditary traits. Anyway, he seemed 
not to have attempted to do so. In this he was 
inconsistent, for he tells us himself in his autobio- 
graphy that he was a great critic. As I have used 
his autobiography greatly so far, and shall use it 
further to some extent, I will speak in the first per- 
son and use his own language largely. Says he : 

"The tendency to fault-finding in me is dominant 
— disagreeably dominant. The indicating of errors 
in thought and in speech made by those around me 
has all through life been an incurable habit — a habit 
for which I have often reproached myself, but to no 
purpose." (This he claimed' to have inherited from 
his father and grandfather.) "And here let me 
add that in me a sense of duty prompts criticism, for 
when occasionally I succeed in restraining myself 
from making a comment on something wrongly said 
or executed, I have a feeling of discomfort, as 
though I had left undone something which should 
have been done." 

His anxiety to effect the improvement of others, 
as we shall further sec. was greater than to effeel 
his own improvement. 



HERBERT SPENCER 245 

This abnormal tendency to criticism he assigns 
as the chief reason of his remaining a single man. 
"Readiness to see inferiorities rather than superiori- 
ties must have impeded me in finding one who 
attracted me in adequate degree." 

Similarly to be explained as resulting from 
inheritance is an allied trait — disregard of authority. 
Few have shown this more conspicuously. 

A closely allied trait has to be indicated, viz. : 
the absence of moral fear. 

"I contrast unfavorably with both my father and 
mother in certain respects. I have never shown the 
unfailing diligence which was common to them, and 
there has not been displayed in me as great an 
amount of altruistic feeling as was displayed by 
both. 

"One apparent reason is that the circulation in 
my brain has been throughout life less vigorous than 
it should be. Besides his large brain, my father had 
a large chest, and as a result an abundant supply of 
energy. In my mother, the chest was below par, 
and in me the factors are not the same, my visceral 
constitution taking more after my mother, an obvi- 
ous implication being that in the brain the blood 
supply, when not increased by excitement, has been 
below par. Hence a somewhat deficient genesis of 
energy, at any rate not as great as in my father. 

"Hence, in early days, there was none of that 
tendency towards cruelty which boys so commonly 
display, but in the kind of beneficence distinguish- 
able as positive, that which implies activity, there is 
a decided difference between myself and my parents. 

"I pass," says he, "now to those traits which are 
more especially mental. Whatever specialties of 
character and faculty in me are due to inheritance 
are inherited from my father. Between my mother's 
mind and my own, I scarcely see any resemblance. 
She was very patient; I am very impatient. She 



246 HERBERT SPENCER 

was tolerant of pain, bodily and mental ; I am 
intolerant of it. She was little given to finding fault 
with others ; I am greatly given to it. She was sub- 
missive; I am the reverse of submissive. Not only 
in the moral characters just named am I like my 
father, but such intellectual characters as are 
peculiar are derived from him. 

"Though an intuition is not inheritable, the 
capacity for an intuition is, and I inherited an 
unusual capacity for the intuition of cause. Always 
my father had been prone to inquiries about causes. 
This has been shown in my course of thought 
throughout life. 

"The next trait inherited from my father is the 
synthetic tendency. That this was dominant in 
him is proven by his little work entitled Tnventional 
Geometry.' It* scarcely needs saying that the 
synthetic tendency has been conspicuous in all I 
have done from the beginning. This was manifest 
in my habit of castle-building in early life. This 
absorption went so far in me as to lead me to talk 
to myself in the streets, and to pass those living in 
the same house with me without knowing that I had 
seen them, though I looked them in the face." 

HIS GREATNESS 

"In awarding points to the various candidates 
for immortality," so says The Nation, "in the Pan- 
theon of Philosophy, few are entitled to a higher 
mark on the score of positive and systematic fi Tin. 
Long before any of his contemporaries had seized its 
universal import, he grasped a great, light-giving 
truth — the truth of evolution — and applied it to the 
whole of life down to the minutest details of the 
most various sciences. His facts, in short, seem 
collected for a purpose; those which favored the 
purpose are never forgotten." 

Whatever he wrote or said received attention at 



HERBERT SPENCER 247 

once, was discussed or influenced action. The com- 
pletion of his philisophy in England was regarded 
as a suitable object for a national memorial. 

Further, he had at least the satisfaction that 
throughout the civilized world, friend and foe alike 
would approve what he said and did. 

Georgie Eliot uttered surprise at seeing no lines 
on his forehead. His reply was: "I suppose it is 
because I am never puzzled." 

Says William James, of Harvard : "Rarely has 
nature performed an odder or more Dickens-like 
feat than when she deliberately designed or acci- 
dentally stumbled into the personality of Herbert 
Spencer. Greatness and smallness surely never 
lived so closely in one skin together." 

When we turn to his autobiography, the self- 
confession is this : "An old-maidish personage, 
inhabiting boarding houses, equable and luke-warm 
in all his tastes and passions, having no desultory 
curiosity, showing little interest in either books or 
people. A petty fault-finder and stickler for trifles, 
devoid in youth of any wide designs on life, yet 
drifting, as it were, involuntarily into the posses- 
sion of a world formula which, by dint of his extra- 
ordinary pertinacity, he proceeded to apply to so 
many special cases that it made him a philosopher 
in spite of himself." 

Says one : "A philosophic saw-mill. The most 
capacious and powerful thinker of all time." Says 
another : "No other man that has walked the earth 
has so brought and written himself into the life of 
the world." Says still another : "Take one thought 
alone — that which refers to the positive sense of the 
unknown — as the basis of religion. It may unhesi- 
tatingly be affirmed that the analysis and synthesis 
by which he advances to the almost supernatural 
grasp of this mighty truth give a sense of power and 



248 HERBERT SPENCER 

reach verging on the preternatural." Since Goethe, 
no such ideal human being can have been visible. 

Herbert Spencer was no abstract idea. He was 
a man vigorously devoted to truth and justice as he 
saw them, who had deep insight, and who finished 
under terrible frustrations from bad health a piece 
of work that, taken all in all, is extraordinary. 

Says W. H. Hudson, of Stanford University : 
"Science must necessarily end in the mystery with 
which religion begins. That which persists unchang- 
ing in quantity, but ever changing in form, under 
the sensible appearances which the universe presents 
to us is an unknown and unknowable power which 
we are obliged to recognize as without limit in space 
and without beginning or end in time, and this 
noumena power in philosophy, of which all phenom- 
ena are but manifestation, is the God of religion — 
the infinite and eternal energy from which all things 
proceed — was the God of Herbert Spencer. 



The Human Brain 

The anatomy of the brain is so difficult, I will 
scarcely touch upon it, except in a few words. The 
largest and most important part of the brain is called 
the cerebrum, and is situated in the upper part of the 
skull, and for simplicity we will call it the upper 
brain. It is composed of cells and fibers. The sur- 
face is covered with a layer of cells about one-tenth 
of an inch thick, which dips down in the fissures that 
mark that surface of this organ and give it its 
peculiar appearance. The cells in this layer, accord- 
ing to Herbert Spencer, amount to 600,000,000 in 
number. They are collected also into masses at the 
base of the brain, and also into the spinal marrow, 
which is an extension of the brain. 

The function of the cells is to intensify activities, 
which enter them, also to convert one kind of activ- 
ity into another. The collections of cells mentioned 
are called nerve centers, which we will again refer 
to. I will but mention now that the cells are called 
the gray matter of the brain. 

Many of the cells have one or more extensions, 
which are called fibers, and which connect one part 
of the brain with another and which convey nervous 
actions from one part to another. 

The greater part of the brain is made up of 
fibers. Fibers connect the upper brain with the 
lower brain and spinal column, also with the pos- 
terior brain. They connect the gray matter of dif- 
ferent parts of the brain, also the two sides of the 
brain. When you come to study the association of 

249 



250 THE HUMAN BRAIN 

muscular movements and of ideas, the importance 
of this matter will be seen. 

One fact about the fibers which connect the dif- 
ferent cells of the brain deserving of notice is that 
they have the power of contracting and extending 
themselves. In other words, they are not so con- 
nected but that they may be separated and then the 
connection re-established. This fact was discovered 
as late as 1889 by a Spanish histologist, Dr. Cajal, 
and is now concurred in generally. The new method 
of coloring nerve tissue enabled him to trace the 
nerve fibrils to their ends. He showed that a central 
nerve cell with its fibrils has no direct physical con- 
nection with any other nerve cell whatever. He 
found that the fibrils formed themselves, whatever 
connection might exist, and that they operated inter- 
mittently, and that under proper stimulation they 
conduct their destined impulse over the connection. 
For instance, in case we forget a certain thing it is 
because the connection of certain parts of the brain 
has been severed by contraction of its fibrils, and 
when it is re-established by their re-extension, we 
again remember the lost idea; just as wires are 
connected and separated at a central telephone 
office. By this arrangement, all parts of the brain 
are not associated in action at all times, which would 
be a great nuisance, and would lead to a perfect 
bedlam. 

Nerve centers are distributed through the mass 
of gray matter that covers the brain, as well as in 
other parts of that organ. For instance, the centers 
which control the arm, leg and lace are known to be 
situated upon the side and top of the head. I opened 
the skull once, of a man, for abscess of the brain, 
and went down precisely on the right spot. Dr. 
Eskridge had located it by the effect it had upon the 
man's left wrist. By the way. this is the first case 



THE HUMAN BRAIN 251 

on record in which the skull was ever opened for 
abscess of the brain. 

The center of sight is known to be in the back 
part of the brain. I saw, in consultation, once a boy 
who had fallen on the ice, striking the back part of 
his head. In a few weeks he became blind. When 
an examination was made, after death, it was found 
that this part of the brain had been destroyed by 
suppuration. 

One of the most interesting centers, from a 
physiological standpoint, is that of speech. This is 
found at the bottom of the brain on the left side. 
There is no corresponding center on the right side, 
but in left-handed persons the only center is on that 
side. In certain cases, where this center is affected, 
it is possible for the individual to understand what 
is said to him, but he is unable to express himself 
in words; in certain other cases, words convey no 
idea whatever to the patient. 

The spinal cord contains many independent cen- 
ters, and the cord is, therefore, not a conducting 
organ only between the outer world and the brain, 
although many of its fibers run clear through to the 
brain. A large part of human activity takes place 
without any voluntary control, or even without any 
consciousness on the part of the individual, and this 
is due to the independent nerve centers of the spinal 
cord. If it be cut across, all feeling and voluntary 
motion below the cut is lost, but if the sole of the 
foot be tickled with a feather the leg is drawn up, 
though the man is unaware of it. Dr. John Hunter 
mentions the case of a patient with paralysis of the 
lower part of the body, in whose legs violent move- 
ments, which he did not feel, were produced, when 
the soles of the feet were irritated. When asked 
whether he felt it, replied : "No, sir ; but you see 
my legs do." 

The center of respiration and the center for the 



252 THE HUMAN BRAIX 

heart's action also reside in the upper part of the 
spinal cord. 

I will give some evidences of mind, according to 
Bain. These I will merely mention, without under- 
taking to dilate on them : 

"First — When a cat watches for a mouse, when a 
dog finds its way home over a strange country, we 
do not doubt that here are real signs of the presence 
of mind. When a tree that is cut with an axe shows 
no signs of feeling the blow, we note that here 
signs of mind are absent. 

"Second — A capacity in the animal, observable 
from without, to adjust themselves, by fitting move- 
ments, to what takes place near them. 

"Third — They show signs of satisfaction or dis- 
satisfaction, i. e., of pleasure or pain. Higher up in 
the animal scale we meet with reactions of fear, of 
anger, of joy, and of numerous other emotional 
states. We may class all these as signs of feeling. 

"Fourth — The animal, in proportion to its eleva- 
tion in the mental scale, shows a disposition to be 
determined in its present action by what has hap- 
pened to it in the past; it seems to learn by experi- 
ence. In other words, shows signs of memory and 
docility. 

"Fifth — The adjustment of an organism to its 
environment involves the occurrence of responses, 
which are initiated within — spontaniety. 

"It must be admitted that it is only where the 
signs of mental initiative appear in close connection 
with signs of docility that they are of importance as 
furnishing evidence of the presence of significant 
mental life. 

"The brain is the principal, although not the sole 
organ of mind, and its leading functions are mental. 
The proofs of tin's position are these : 

"First — -The physical pain of excessive mental 
excitement is localized in the head. When mental 



THE HUMAN BRAIN 253 

exercise brings on acute irritation, the local seat is 
the head. 

"Second — Injury or disease of the brain affects 
the mental powers. A blow on the head destroys 
consciousness. Physical alterations of the nervous 
substance (as 'seen after death) are connected with 
loss of speech, loss of memory, insanity, or some 
other mental derangement. 

"Third— The products of nervous waste are 
more abundant after mental excitement. 

"Fourth — Mental labor gives rise to slight eleva- 
tion of the temperature of the head, as shown by 
the thermometer. 

"Fifth — By specific experiments on the brain of 
animals, as well as man, it is shown that the brain 
is indispensible to mental functions." 

MEMORY AND REASONING 

There are so many mental powers we cannot 
notice each. There are a couple, however, so very 
important that we must not fail to mention them in 
passing. They are memory and reasoning. With- 
out memory we cannot identify ourselves with our 
past lives. We would have no histrionic value what- 
ever ; we would be like a great number of independ- 
ent beings. The memory has its foundation in our 
bodily organization. If one ever has Smallpox or 
many other specific fevers, he never has them a sec- 
ond time. The body does not forget that he has 
had them once. The first attack seems to work a 
modification in the tissues of the body and the blood. 
If a child cuts a hand to any extent, the body does 
not forget to reproduce the scar as long as he lives. 

The same is true, to a certain extent, with men- 
tal memory. An impression on the brain works 
some kind of modification in the brain which causes 
it to never forget entirely the cause which wrought 
it. The fact which produced it may lie dormant for 



254 THB Hi' MAX BRAIN 

a long time, yet some bodily state, some state of the 
blood, may reproduce it. In keeping with this fact, 
we find that serious injuries to the head may cause 
one to lose memory. The mind may become a blank 
as far as all occurrences are concerned. One 
peculiarity about such injuries is that it may be only 
recent events that are forgotten. From this it would 
seem that impressions must have time to work their 
full effect or modification in that organ, and that if 
the impression or sensation is wiped out too soon, 
they are forgotten. These things show that mem- 
ory has a physical basis to a great extent. 

Again, if we had no memory, we could not learn 
anything, could not make any progress in mental or 
physical development. It should not be forgotten, 
however, that memory lies deeper than the mind, 
for there is an organic memory. The proper place 
to begin the study of memory is the muscular tissue. 
Muscular fiber responds feebly at first to the excita- 
tion transmitted ; does so more vigorously the more 
frequently it is stimulated. It gains more in activity 
than in repose. We have here in the simplest form 
the nearest approach to mental memory. But this 
has nothing to do with the brain, so we will pass on 
to reasoning. 

"Reasoning is more especially a function of 
brain, although dependent upon memory; though, 
when we come to investigate the intelligence of 
animals," so says Halleck. "we find that their 
reasoning is principally by association of concretes, 
and a result of the structure of the brain, especially 
its fibers. The dog that ran to the potato patch on 
hearing the expression, "The cow is in the pot;; 
knew from oft association of the word "cow" with 
the object that the cow needed attention. The word 
"potatoes" recalled the place. The dog that ran 
directly to the mouth oi the burrow and waited for 
his prey, instead of chasing the rabbit's path which 



THE HUMAN BRAIN 255 

finally led to the burrow, showed the effect of asso- 
ciation. Repeated associations had caused the sight 
of the rabbit vanishing down the burrow to make 
such a deep impression on the dog that when he 
started, the associated images ran through his mind 
faster than his legs could take him. The dog imme- 
diately rushed straight for the place indicated by the 
image of the rabbit disappearing down the burrow, 
arriving there first, because his association had out- 
run his legs. 

The pig that shook a tree to make the apples fall 
had previously leaned against the tree to scratch 
herself. This movement was associated with the 
falling of apples, and both concrete ideas were asso- 
ciated in the pig's memory. Generally, we may say 
that the reasoning of animals is due to the contigu- 
ous association of one concrete object, or set of 
objects, with another. This may occasionally con- 
tain the germ, but not the full flower of human 
reasoning. 

The brain of man, which is the organ of mind, 
like that of the higher animals, is greatly influenced 
by association, and there are laws of association of 
ideas which show the way in which ideas follow each 
other ; one idea suggests another in accordance with 
these laws. For instance, there is the law of con- 
tiguity — that is, one state of consciousness suggests 
another that is closely related to it in the brain. 
Again, likeness and unlikeness suggest correspond- 
ing ideas, etc. These suggestions are far more 
extensive in man than in the animals. 

Herbert Spencer defines mind as a correspond- 
ence between inner relations and outer relations, and 
claims that the outer relations suggest and call forth 
the inner relations. This is true to a great extent 
in animals, but is far more so in man, as he is a far 
more complex being, when you take into considera- 
tion his intellect, which extend their inner relations, 



256 THE HUMAN BRAIN 

for example, through space, as in sight and hear- 
ing-, which gives them great advantage in escaping 
enemies. We observe how, along with complexity 
of organization, there goes an increase in the num- 
ber, in the range, in the speciality, and in the 
complexity of the adjustments of inner relations to 
outer relations. 

These co-relations are still better seen in the 
objective appliances he uses. We may properly say 
that in its higher forms the correspondence between 
the organism and its environment is effected by 
means of supplementary senses and supplementary 
limbs. All observing instruments, all weights, meas- 
ures, scales, microscopes, thermometers, etc., are 
artificial senses. By means of the telescope, for 
instance, he extends his inner relations through 
space to the stars, when the proper sizes and motions 
can be measured. Also in time, when he foretells a 
thousand years before hand when an eclipse of a 
certain planet will occur. And now, on returning 
from this long digression, bringing with us the con- 
ceptions arrived at, we find that they serve to eluci- 
date the subject — the increase of the correspondence 
in complexity between outer and inner adjustments. 

GROWTH OF THE BRAIX 

As the brain is the organ of the mind, we take 
it for granted the growth of mind means growth of 
brain. We do not mean enlargement of brain. 
Growth may take place in other ways. For instance, 
in intelligent races it is found the fissures on the 
surface of the brain are deeper, giving room for 
more surface matter (which is the thinking mater- 
ial) than in the uncivilized. Again, there may be a 
re-arrangement of the particles o\ matter in such 
wise as to correspond with the capability for higher 
thought and action. 

The effect of thought and action is supposed to 



THE HUMAN BRAIN 257 

produce this re-arrangement among the particles of 
the brain, and it is thought that this is the basis of 
memory and progress. In whatever the minute 
change in the brain consists, we are justified in 
speaking of its adaptation to higher thought and 
action as a growth. 

The expression, therefore, that the brain grows 
to our modes of thinking and acting is an intelligent 
one, and shows that exercise of the faculties and 
powers develop the brain. This belief is in favor 
of those schools which lay great emphasis on train- 
ing the mind rather than storing it with knowledge. 
It goes upon the presumption, that if the mind is 
well trained, it can accumulate and handle ideas 
later in life; without this training it can neither 
retain nor manage knowledge. The more we exer- 
cise our memories, the better we can remember, and 
the more we exercise our reasoning powers, the 
better we can use our knowledge. 

Of course, the acquirement of knowledge exer- 
cises our powers of mind, but there are studies 
whose effects are principally manifest in the way of 
training, and which are of little value otherwise, 
such as mathematics, the dead languages, and cer- 
tain kinds of science, as logic for instance. Youth 
is the time for the practice of these training studies, 
while adult life is the time for accumulating knowl- 
edge. 

THE BRAIN AS AN INHIBITING ORGAN 

The word inhibit is almost synonymous with pro- 
hibit, yet in physiology the word inhibit is in gen- 
eral use. The function of the brain in holding back 
actvities is an important one. Upon the process of 
inhibiting, i. e., of preventing or overcoming a form 
of nervous excitement, the organization of all higher 
life depends. What, in any situation, we are 



258 THE HUMAN BRAIN 

restrained from doing is as important to ns as what 
we do. 

The mutual opposition and balancing of numer- 
ous tendencies is absolutely essential to normal life. 
The brain receives at every waking instant an 
enormous overwealth of sensory stimulation. If the 
held of vision, for instance, is full of interesting 
objects, all of them tend to excite various move- 
ments of the eyes, so that no one thing could be 
distinctly seen. In order to look steadily, for even 
a moment, in any one direction, we, therefore, have 
to inhibit all of these tendencies, except the one 
whose triumph means seeing the preferred object. 
One absorbed in writing or reading lets pass without 
notice impressions to which, under ordinary circum- 
stances, he would respond by acts of looking, of 
listening, of grasping, or of other muscular move- 
ments. Let him cease the higher activity and he 
adjusts himself to the lesser matters of his sur- 
roundings. An absorbed public speaker, or man in 
a formal social company, inhibits or prevents those 
movements, however habitual they are in other com- 
pany and however strong, which his habits have 
taught him to suppress, as being here out of char- 
acter. 

The rule of inhibition is that the higher a given 
function is, the more numerous are the inhibitory 
influences that it exercises over the lower centers. 
Excite a child's brain to anything approaching 
absorbing activity (example: by telling it an inter- 
esting story), and for the time you keep it quiet; 
otherwise, he runs about, wiggles, kicks, and prat- 
tles. These may cease, by inhibition, when a story 
begins. Self-control is an essential pari ^i health. 
and absence of it is a sign of nervous disorder, or 
immaturity. 

There is one instance in which the tendency to 
self-control, or inhibition, becomes very unpleasant, 



THE HUMAN BRAIN 259 

and that is in worry. Whether one rushes about or 
lies still in pretended rest, whether his mood is this 
or that, he is all the while inclined to act, and is busy 
holding himself back from effective action. His 
endless question, "What shall I do?" his motor rest- 
lessness, his petty and useless little deeds, all express 
his inability to choose between the numerous tend- 
encies to movement which his situation arouses. In 
his dispair, he tries to inhibit all acts until a saving" 
plan shall appear; and so, accomplishing nothing, 
he may do far more motor work than an acrobat. 
But let the dreaded calamity over which he worried 
befall him and the useless inhibitions vanish. The 
recently worried man may hereupon become cool, 
and may bear the worst so much more easily than 
he could the uncertainty, and may find great relief 
from the cessation of useless motor and mental 
processes. 

UNCONSCIOUS ACTIVITY OF THE BRAIN 

We attempt to recall a name and fail. We bring 
to bear especial efforts in a round-about way, but 
still we fail. We dismiss the matter from our 
minds, and in course of time the name appears to 
us, when we were not thinking about it. But it 
seems that the brain does not dismiss it, but works 
away at it without our knowing it; otherwise we 
could not account for the fact that it solves the diffi- 
culty. It is fair to presume that a great deal of our 
thinking is done unconsciously, and that we spend 
much of our time in unconscious reverie. 

Of late years a great deal is made of this uncon- 
scious mental activity. One writer, Dr. James, of 
Harvard University, lays stress on our unconscious 
self in religious matters, and thinks the Divine 
Being acts upon this part of our natures. I was 
present at a lecture given by Dr. Lancaster, at the 
High School building, some time ago, the subject 



260 THE HUMAN BRAIN 

being this unconscious action, when a lady asked 
the question whether, in the inspiration of the 
scriptures, the Diety might not have acted upon this 
unconscious self of the writer? To which the pro- 
fessor replied in the affirmative. 

It would seem that these men look upon this 
part of our natures as superior to our conscious 
selves. For my part, I cannot see it in this light. 

We have spoken of the cells and connecting- 
fibers of the brain, and the way we regard this 
unconscious action of the brain is that an activity 
of one part of the brain is conducted to other parts, 
and this condition is carried on by the fibers with- 
out our knowledge by what is called the work of 
association. 

It is true, our thinking without our knowing of 
it may be just as correct, possibly more so, than 
when we do know of it. Our knowledge of the 
process is not necessary to make it effectual. We 
try to repeat a poem, for instance, with which we 
are familiar, and get off wrong. If we concentrate 
our minds upon our effort, we are liable to fail 
worse than ever, whereas if we let one line suggest 
another, we are more likely to succeed. Our atten- 
tion seems to interfere with the associative process. 
This convinces us that unconscious thinking is 
largely an associative process, as is the case with 
animals, and is due to the mechanical arrangement 
of the brain, and is an involuntary passage of trains 
of activity along its fibers, and is not due to the 
superiority of the process of unconscious thinking. 

Consciousness may interfere with the process, 
just as seeing or looking around may interfere with 
thinking by distracting attention, but it does not fol- 
low that we are any higher being when our eyes are 
shut. 



Industrialism 



What interests man most in this life? What 
'receives the greatest amount of attention at his 
hands, absorbs the most of his efforts, and has the 
greatest amount of influence upon his conduct, char- 
acter and destiny? The answer is subsistence; the 
providing himself with food and clothing and all 
the necessaries of life, and health and happiness. 

After being born, to continue to live is the pri- 
mary instinct and the first duty of every living 
being. To subsist, we must work or produce. If 
we do not work, we die. Every individual, by his 
labor day by day, must provide as much of the 
materials of subsistence as will support himself and 
those dependent on him for that day. Work, then, 
is the lot, duty and privilege of every member of the 
community. Subsistence work is nature's founda- 
tional condition of life, upon which not only the 
existence of society, but the continuance of the race 
depends. For a person to object to work or be 
ashamed of working is as illogical as to object to 
having a heart or brain. 

That a person is not ashamed that he does not 
work shows a mind uninformed or a character 
depraved. The supply of the needs, wants and 
desires of mankind is man's main business through 
life. It affects every person in the world, as all sub- 
sist. It absorbs more human energy and thought 
than all the other interests and occupations of 
humanity combined, as is shown by the fact that in 

18- 261 



202 INDUSTRIALISM 

civilized countries 999 persons in every 1,000 are 
engaged in work of one kind or another. 

In some ages of the world religion has been 
regarded as man's chief end, and his religious inter- 
ests as the matters of primary concern. Yet you 
cannot subsist on religion, if a person only inter- 
ested himself in religion, he would die, if some other 
person did not work for him and provide him with 
subsistence. 

In the middle ages religion was supposed to be^ 
the business of life. Look at the result: The 
inherited civilization was lost, and Europe entered 
upon a period of misery, moral degradation, and 
debased superstition without a parallel in the world's 
history. 

As far as the benefits of religion are concerned, 
I suspect I am willing to go farther than the most 
of you. If proof were needed of the underlying 
relationship between religion and industry, it would 
be found in the fact that the most religious nations 
are economically the most prosperous. 

The most energetic and prosperous industrial 
communities are North America, Germany, Holland 
and Great Britain, and we think it will be admitted 
that these countries are those in which the religious 
spirit and religious influences have the most power- 
ful operative effect upon the masses of the people. 

I will mention one benefit conferred by religion 
on industry which is important, and that is the train- 
ing of self-control. Abstaining from certain , 
meats and drinks, from certain luxuries and pleas- 
ures, for a day in the week or for a period of the 
year, is a most useful check upon the aggressive 
habits of self-indulgence. 

The perfect industrial man is not the individual 
who thinks of nothing else and knows of nothing but 
his selfish interests. On the contrary, the most 
effective worker is the man who has an effective 



INDUSTRIALISM 263 

sympathy with every form of human interest and 
activity. The distance separating the religious 
thought and the religious spirit from industry does 
not weaken the useful influence of the one upon the 
other. 

There is another respect in which religion is a 
benefit. There are many failures in the industrial 
war; many weary in the prolonged campaign; 
others lag behind in the march; others fall in with 
misfortune, or meet with disaster, through no fault 
of their own. It is the fortune of war. All equally 
deserving do not return to be crowned with laurels. 
To all these, religion extends sympathy and consola- 
tion — the wrongs and misfortunes of this life will 
be rectified and compensated in the next. So it is 
that every form of religion which contemplates a 
future existence, as all do, is a benefit in the consola- 
tion it affords. The blood-thirsty savage, as well as 
the Christian believer, receives comfort for his woes 
in his anticipation of redress in a future life. Prob- 
ably there is no form of religion, however hetrodox, 
that does not afford this consolation to the unfor- 
tunate. To them the world is hard, blind, unappre- 
ciative and unjust. It would be cruel to refuse to 
them the consolations religion affords. But still we 
must work, for we cannot live on the consolations of 
religion. 

However beneficial religion may be to industry, 
there are respects wherein it is injurious; for 
instance, when the clergy belittle the importance and 
dignity of life, or when they describe poverty as a 
necessary, desirable or meritorious moral or relig- 
ious state. 

And then, again, religion is injurious when the 
clergy preach doctrines which are economically 
unsound and fatal to all industry. We believe 
industry to be not only the absolute duty, but the 
highest duty of the great mass of mankind. 



264 INDUSTRIALISM 

Modern civilization, with all its triumphs, is just 
the recognition of the truth that the main and most 
important business of mankind is the adequate sup- 
ply of man's needs, wants and desires. When the 
people's mind is not deflected or artificially influ- 
enced, their natural bent, their spontaneous recogni- 
tion of the main purpose of life, is the supply, con- 
servation and accumulation of the elements of sub- 
sistence. When we consider the joy and physical 
exhileration which work affords, we have traced it 
as high as it is possible to do, to-wit : to the origi- 
nator of all things. 

It is not on account of the money value of labor 
in which its, worth consists, for a hard day's work by 
man is only equivalent in energy to that produced 
by five ounces of coal (five ounces, mind you, and 
not five pounds), but it is its effects upon his body 
and mind where its value comes in. These cannot 
be estimated in dollars and cents. Although the 
money value of a hard day's work be less than one 
cent, yet there is satisfaction, content and pleasure in 
work, especially when we add the pleasure and satis- 
faction of producing something or earning a liveli- 
hood. 

It is true, work is not an inborn instinct, alth< 
play is, but is an acquired capacity. It arises from 
our bodily needs. Hunger is at the foundation of 
all organic movement and striving, in either the 
vegetable, insect or animal world. It is at the bot- 



mand to him. From the dawn of history until now, 
man's principal business in life lias been his pro- 
vision for gratifying this appetite. Civilization is a 
grafi upon this primal economic effort, as culture 
is a graft upon civilization. Religion, knowledge. 
culture, political science, art and luxury are all 



INDUSTRIALISM 265 

grafts upon this foundational fact of economic neces- 
sity of work. 

Yet it would not be difficult, under the disguise 
of religion, to make the masses lose their slowly 
acquired disposition to work, and champion move- 
ments of robbery and spoliation. 

We know that socialism of the most dangerous 
kind is not only tolerated, but fostered by misguided 
religious teachers. 

We have dwelt upon the fact that man's prin- 
cipal business in life is to work, not only as a means 
of affording content to all workers, but because it is 
too much forgotten, or at least overlooked, at the 
present day. Many dangerous movements in mod- 
ern society, and much unnecessary discontent, min- 
gles with the labor of our manual working classes 
because there is a lurking opinion that work is 
unnecessary and a badge of degradation. 

Let us proclaim the truth, that labor is the prime 
honor, as well as the prime necessity of life and 
health; that so far from being a degradation it is 
a duty and a privilege ; that it ought to be, and to a 
properly constituted and healthy mind is, a genuine 
source of happiness and pleasure. 

We want to remove the conception that industry 
is sordid and mean. On the contrary, industrialism 
is a universal personal advantage. But universal 
personal advantage is and must be mutual advan- 
tage. In helping himself, the industrialist assists his 
rival, his neighbor and his country. The foundation 
of industry is useful, beneficent action. If it is not 
useful and beneficent, it is not industry. 

"He who works merely for gain loses the soul 
of labor, while he who labors for the sake of work 
puts soul in every touch of the hands. Love of the 
work that is to be wrought glorifies labor, even as 
the sun glorifies the glistening mountain peak, and 
its last smile bathes the valley with golden splendor." 



266 INDUSTRIALISM 

Man finds in toil dignity, beauty, and peace, 
which afford the weary mind the sweetest and most 
restorative rest. 

While religion without work is a poor substitute! 
as is evident from the following quotation : 

"But if any provide not for his own, and espe- 
cially for those of his own house, he hath denied the 
faith, and is worse than an infidel." 

Thus, you see, the scriptures place industry 
ahead of religion. They make it more important 
than a belief in God. Now that the scriptures take 
this position, what are you going to say about it ? 
What are you going to offer in favor of the dead- 
beat and tramp that perambulate this earth, however 
Godly they may assume to appear? 

'The dominant thought should be that wealth is 
a duty to the individual, a growing necessity to the 
age, and that the world needs many times over its 
present capital. 

Hence one of the best things we can do is to 
leave it a little more; leave it a little better off by 
adding a little more to its capital stock. 

There is another side to our subject, viz. : 

ACCUMULATION. 

On the side we have treated lies production. On 
the side we are now about to speak of lies accumula- 
tion — the watershed of industry. Though it must 
have production as an antecedent, it embraces the 
process of saving. If we expend the remuneration 
of our labors on pleasurable satisfactions, we can- 
not accumulate. We have, therefore, to take notice 
that to accomplish accumulation, self-denial is a pre- 
requisite, especially of the humbler industrialist, who 
seeks to rise from the ranks of chronic poverty. 
With these, self-denial is the dominating Fad gov- 
erning accumulation. This is the only source of 
accumulation open to the great mass of cur working 



INDUSTRIALISM 267 

population ; and this, I may observe, is a moral qual- 
ity. I may say that, while productive industry, which 
supplies the current needs and wants of society, is 
a temporary and evanescent form of industry, 
accumulation has for its purpose a future and per- 
manent or relatively permanent object. A person 
seeks to save that his accumulated earnings may 
assume a permanent form, may go to join the stand- 
ing or stored-up wealth that will permanently 
improve the world, and human society that lives in 
it. What a glorious thought ! It means helping the 
Diety to make this world a more desirable abode for 
man to live in. Is the man, therefore, who leaves 
behind him something to help on the human race, 
to help the world to become a better world, is he the 
selfish man? Nay, verily, as the world has not half 
wealth enough, I would say rather consider him 
the selfish man who spends on himself and his 
chums, in the way of dissipation and barbaric lux- 
ury, all he can rake and scrape. What better can 
we do than leave the world a little better off for 
having lived in it? a little better for the next that 
follows? I do not include the miser, of course, as he 
is a specimen of diseased and deranged manhood. 

As an example of the former, witness Winfield 
Scott Stratton, whose wealth will continue to effect 
import and humane results long after his bones have 
mouldered to dust. We would say shame on him 
who points the finger of scorn at the man of fortune 
because he does not use up all his assets while he 
lives rather than have them go to benefit the world 
after he is gone ! 

The greatest present-day triumphs of productive 
energy are based upon and are the consequence of 
its previous self-denial and accumulation. 

Accumulation is, therefore, one of the main 
sources of wealth. It depends on a moral quality- 
self-denial. It is a duty; it is a source of national 



268 INDUSTRIALISM 

prosperity, and the millions who are engaged in it 
only testify to its universal character. 

There is another end of industry worthy of 
notice, and that is to establish the victory of man 
over nature. 

Now, where is there a force, a difficulty, or a 
contingency man is not prepared to tackle? We 
hear of areas the size of provinces to be re-afforested, 
deserts to be re-watered and irrigated, isthmuses to 
be cut by canals, mountains tunneled, straits bridged, 
seas enclosed, pumped dry and tilled; every conti- 
nent traversed by railways from end to end, and our 
oceans ploughed by floating palaces at high speed. 

New substances and forms of force have been 
invented, which in themselves are not only new, but 
absolutely unique. They are unknown to nature. 
The power of waterfalls are transmitted in the form 
of electricity, to give light and heat to drive indus- 
tries in distant cities. The articulate sounds of the 
human voice have been transmitted through the air 
distances of nearly 2,000 miles. 

Man is not only conscious of his victory over 
nature, although a part of nature himself, but his 
consciousness rings with this superiority, and the 
national sentiment is inspired by it. 

As a matter of fact, economic results are year 
by year attained at a smaller expenditure of energy. 
Life — individual life — is now more easily supported. 
Not so long ago large masses of men had to pass 
their life in unremitting toil simply to sustain exist- 
ence. Now merely to sustain life dec- not employ 
a man's whole time and energies, lie is left at his 
choice with more time for other pursuits, such as the 
discovery of truth, the dissemination of knowledge, 
and the elevation of the race. 

There is no nobler or more useful form ^i serv- 
ice to humanity than industry; than the full and 
generous gratification oi man's every need at the 



INDUSTRIALISM 269 

price of the least sacrifice, that the most active intel- 
ligences and hardest workers of the age can supply. 
It is not only a service, it is a necessity, and, as a 
necessity, it is the discharge of a primary duty — the 
duty lying nearest at hand. 

For development of character, the training of 
the intelligence, and for world usefulness, no other 
field of human experience surpasses intellectual 
industry. All art, science, culture and civilization 
was born after it, within it, and are continued by 
its aid. But the reason is not that man's material 
wants are less fully and adequately supplied. On 
the contrary, they are more fully satisfied than ever 
before. But, by reason of the growing efficiency of 
industry, she attains many times over the same 
result with a less expenditure of means. But it 
grows by the aid and the leisure of time provided by 
the effectiveness of industry. As industry becomes 
more scientific, and wise, and efficient, so much more 
the race's time and energy can be turned into other 
channels and directed to other objects, such as the 
means by which its own elevation is effected. 

On the subject of productive work, I have had 
mostly in mind muscular work, but the pleasures and 
benefits conferred by brain-workers upon them- 
selves, and upon the world at large, should not be 
overlooked. But what I was going to say is that, 
as the muscle centers in the brain are closely con- 
nected with the mind centers, the habitual use of the 
muscle centers greatly influences the latter. In other 
words, the establishment of regular habits of muscu- 
lar movements has much to do in the formation of 
mental and moral habits; has much to do in the 
making of the man. 

Hence, when we arrive at a stage in life when 
we can no longer do muscular work, we lose much— 
we lose its salutary effects upon our thoughts and 
moral natures, just as we lose much enjoyment as 



270 IND US TRIALISM 

civilization advances. For instance, by the use of 
furnaces and steam heaters in our homes, we lose the 
bright and cheerful wood fire. 

We lose the old-time immemorial domestic 
hearth, which has been the theme of optimists and 
poets, who have lavished on it the most endearing 
words and have associated with it their most delight- 
ful thought. The fireplace has always been the 
happiest rallying place of the family. Who does not 
remember, when he remembers little else, the old- 
time hearth-stone, around which the stories were 
told which used to excite and interest the youthful 
mind. 

Here, too, the first manifestations of our gov- 
ernmental policy appeared. 

Your gas logs and electric appliances cannot 
take the place of the old hearth-stone for pleasant 
reminiscences in the mind of youth, the working 
man, or decrepit old man, either. Yet it is to our 
advantage to march with the procession, forego 
these joys and give way to the progress of industry 
which we have helped to develop. 

In other words, we lose in growing old without 
sufficient compensation, while we lose by the 
progress of industry and science the things that are 
beautiful and dear to the heart. But there is abund- 
ant compensation in the invention of new utilities, 
such as steam and electric locomotion, the telegraph, 
the telephone, and manifold other inventions; for 
we must let intellect rule over us and not emotion. 

For what has been said in this paper, I am 
indebted to various sources, but especially to the 
writings of one Mr. Bowack, as lie was in turn 
indebted to Schoupenhaur. 



The Fear of Death 



The instinctive dread of death is necessary to 
the preservation of life. The fear of death is very 
deeply seated in all animal matter as an instinct. 
We see it where life consists of a mere sack of fluid. 
To conserve life and avoid death is one of the first 
manifestations of life. When a lowly organized 
mass of animal matter, as we find it in water, comes 
in contact with a piece of ordinary matter that con- 
tains nourishment, it spreads out around it so as to 
absorb that nourishment; the reverse action taking- 
place when the article it encounters is injurious. The 
first signs of movement or life show that the sub- 
ject has inherent in its nature a sense of the value of 
life. This inherent sense -of the value of life con- 
tinues from the lowest organized being, where there 
is no sign of a nervous system or indications of 
mind, on up through to the most complicated struc- 
ture, even to man himself. And we find in all beings 
some arrangement for defense or protection against 
whatever is dangerous to life. In some this con- 
sists in the power of diminishing their size, as is the 
case with the earth worm ; in others it is the power 
to apparently increase their size, as by erecting their 
hair or feathers,' so as to make themselves formid- 
able in appearance. In others, the escape from 
enemies lies in their color, which is near that of 
the grass or soil they inhabit, which renders their 
detection more difficult. In this country, for instance, 
it will be noticed that most animals and reptiles are 
brown, such as the prairie dog, snakes, the antelope, 



272 THE FEAR OF DEATH 

and other game. In others a shell is secreted over 
the surface, which is the case with a large class of 
fish and reptiles; while others, again, have pointed 
armor or horns. 

In man, his superior intelligence provides many 
ways of defense and escape. At the same time, his 
dread of death keeps pace with his intelligence, and 
in many cases outstrips it; so that there is a dread 
of death which is out of reason, or which reason 
does not justify. The fear of death, which was 
implanted in us for a good purpose, needs to be 
controlled. 

The instinct of fear in general is in childhood 
often unduly developed by bad training and exam- 
ple. In early childhood the impulse is very easily 
awakened, so easily in fact, that a few words, or the 
expression of the face, is enough to start it into 
activity. The bare instinct is there, the direction 
which it is to take rests upon circumstances of train- 
ing. In such ways children become afraid of dark- 
ness, of being alone, of ghosts, of thunder and 
lightning, of dogs and cats, of anything at all which 
has been connected with the crude instinct of fear. 
And too often the impressions remain far into adult 
life, if not throughout. The especially bad thing 
about it is the hue of timidity which they are apt 
to give the person's entire character. This depends 
to a great extent upon one's bodily temperament, 
but it must be fought against with all your energy 
from the first moment of its recognition. You must 
call to your aid your common sense, your reason, 
and your counter-instincts. You must know that 
you can control the frailly. 

Granting that fear as a natural instinct is not 
unduly developed, at the same time there may be 
enough in the dread of death to greatly impair the 
happiness of life. This dread may be greatly les- 
sened by reason, without rendering death attractive. 



THE FEAR OF DEATH 273 

111 the first place, it will appear, upon reflection, 
that death is a merciful agent. What would this 
world be without bodily death? 

If there never had been war or pestilence or 
epidemics, such as Cholera, Yellow Fever or Black 
Tongue — no death, in other words, — the earth 
would contain many thousand times its present 
population. There would be many, very many, 
where there is now but one, and moreover the worst 
of it would be that the vast majority of them would 
be old and decrepit. You may talk about dumb 
thunder, dark lightning, or red-hot ice, or any other 
absurdity, just as well as talk about people living 
without growing old. The consequence would be 
that the great majority would have to be supported 
by the labors of the few. It would not differ, 
whether it would be by charity or by taxation, the 
fact would be the same — a few would have to main- 
tain a population far beyond their capability. 

And then they would be weakly, trembling, help- 
less, old people. It would be a sad sight to behold. 
They would be helpless, as much so as children; 
could not wait upon themselves, could not even feed 
themselves; and yet some, through a horror of 
death, would seem to want them to live on and on 
forevermore. 

But suppose none died. Did you ever stop to 
wonder what the conditions of the earth would be 
if none had died ? They would be too miserable and 
horrid to think of, because they would be the 
accumulated miseries from the foundations of the 
earth. Even now there are places where population 
exceeds the means of sustenance, so that some are 
forced to go hungry. If there had- been no death, 
this evil would be vastly multiplied. Thousands 
would be compelled to go half-starved ; their frames 
would be emaciated, their eyes sunken in their sock- 
ets, their faces would be ghastly, and the skin over 



271 THE FEAR OF DEATH 

the body would cleave to the bones ; in fact, they 
would be breathing skeletons. 

Take the condition of a man who has lost all 
motor activity, such as is the case in general par- 
alysis. What could be more pitiable? Involuntary 
movements may be preserved or exaggerated all 
over the body, so that a strong puff of air in the face 
would set the arms and legs going like a jumping 
jack. Intense pain in the joints would most likely 
occur, and the bones would become fragile and 
easily break; hemorrhages under the skin would 
arise from trifling force or injury, giving rise to 
clots of blood in the tissues. The patient is confined 
to his bed, fed like a small child, and the body is 
simply a filthy, helpless mass of humanity; bed- 
sores, superficial and deep, set in, and his inability 
to shift his position to relieve the tedium of the situ- 
ation or pressure upon his decaying parts adds to 
his misery. And yet, shall we allow our natural 
dread of death to come in and say he ought not 
to die? 

But if there were no death, these conditions 
would be infinitely multiplied. 

The last condition referred to is bad enough, but 
one that is worse, if possible, is that of dementia, 
or the loss of all mental activity, as we see in old 
age. Loss of mind is a natural process of simple 
enfeeblement and decay. The effect of age upon the 
brain is to take out the energy of its gray matter 
and destroy the power of thought and all activity. 
Little by little there steals upon the body and mind 
an inability to concern itself with matters that are 
far removed from its own welfare. Let us contem- 
plate the condition of such: 

In extreme old age, the individual sits doubled 
up in his chair, his head sunk forward on his breast, 
his eyes staring straight before him, his jaw 
dropped, his arms hanging uselessly by his sides, his 



THE FEAR OF DEATH 275 

hands resting inactive, and his lower extremities 
relaxed. He can neither dress nor undress himself. 
Often he is dirty in his habits, and has to be cared 
for like a child. The whole nervous system acts 
sluggishly and without energy, for its topmost strata 
are altogether out of action. He moves but little, 
and undertakes no employment. He does not speak 
unless addressed, and then answers not directly, but 
after an interval in monosyllables, and is relieved at 
being left alone. 

In his mind the higher and finer feelings are 
extinguished. Affections, regard for the feelings, 
comforts and convenience of others is lost. Nothing 
remains but the appetite for food (and that is fickle) 
and the desire for tranquility. Mind and conduct 
are alike reduced to the lowest state. He even fails 
to recognize his own children. 

It is often noticeable that old dements become 
fretful and irritable; their tempers are less under 
control than formerly; little things excite them to 
anger; they are also easily grieved; they take, 
again, after an interval of many years, to weeping, 
and their tears are elicited by insignificant matters. 
If the old dement begins to whimper because his 
food is not ready at the usual hour, he would be 
looked on as betraying the childishness of old age. 
Suppose that he screams aloud for his food and 
creates an uproar, suppose that when his daughter 
brings it to him a few minutes late he assails her 
with foul language; suppose that he proceeds to 
actual violence, and strikes her, overwhelming her 
at the same time with abuse; in such case there is 
mental derangement, or insanity, which I will pro- 
ceed to notice. 

The condition we have just noticed is bad 
enough, and it would seem that death would be a 
relief, but if your hostility to death will not allow 
you to favor it and look upon it as a blessing, how 



276 THE FEAR OF DEATH 

much greater extremity would you have us reduce 
man to before you would be willing for him to die? 

We will refer to one more condition, which is 
worse than dementia, and that is to mental disorder, 
for, if possible, a disordered mind is worse than no 
mind at all. Mental disorder may be of every 
degree. Beginning with the man who fails to 
adjust himself successfully to his surroundings, and 
hence fails in business repeatedly, and the man who 
is a failure socially. There would be many lunatics, 
with ill-kept bodies, their driveling spittle, constant 
jargon and passions of wild beasts. Death for such 
would be a relief, and if there were no death we 
would think Providence to blame for not providing 
one to end the sufferings of these poor wretches. 

But if there were no hope of death, the prospects 
of such would be pitiable indeed ! 

To favor the continued existence of such, 
through prejudice of death, is as bad, if not w< irse, 
than a murderous proclivity. Is not living such a 
life worse than death? 

But as there is a death, how grateful we ought 
to be, how thankful for such relief. If death be 
beneficent in any class of cases, why not in all the 
aged? 

May not the reason why we d< > n< »t see the 
beneficence of it in all such cases be that we do not 
look deeply enough? 

By looking deeply, we will see that there are 
problems in nature that involve a conflict between 
reason and instinct, and that our well-being depends 
on the triumph of reason. 

But it may be asked, why should we be called 
upon to undergo such a conflict? To this it may be 
answered that it is for cur own good. Why. For 
instance, should we he called upon to undergo a 
conflict with evil in the world at all? Could not 
and should not evil have hem left out? I believe 



THE FEAR OF DEATH 277 

that we must answer no. Moral evil is, in a certain 
sense, necessary. If it were wholly eliminated, 
human life would lack an indispensible element. 
Take away all evil and you abolish life itself. It 
must be, not for its own sake, but for the sake of 
the good. 

We cannot conceive of the possibility of exter- 
minating evil without at the same time striking at 
the good. For, in short, we first become conscious 
of the true worth of goodness through evil. All 
the great heroes of humanity become such only by 
struggling with evil. Hence, if we eliminate all 
evil from history, we at the same time eliminate the 
conflict of the good with evil, and lose the high- 
est and grandest possession of humanity — moral 
heroism. 

Likewise our heroism in the conflict of reason 
against the dread of death depends upon the success 
of the former, for in the struggle reason waxes 
strong and fortifies us against the event. Although 
to control a natural instinct is no easy matter. The 
object is not to destroy the fear of death entirely 
(this were a detriment to us), but to overpower its 
dread by reason. This involves a conflict of a 
natural power with a natural instinct, and the con- 
test contributes to our uplift. 

One of the strongest and most satisfactory rea- 
sons in relation to the matter of death is the impos- 
sibility of organizing and perfecting a body that 
would not wear out, particularly a body capable of 
a high action, such as thinking, feeling and delicate 
movements, for there are some things that are 
impossible, even with an Omnipotent God Himself. 
And were such a thing possible, previous considera- 
tions have shown it would not be for the best. 

The limited durability of its tissues is a suffi- 
cient reason for its failing to live forever. This 
limited durability is the true cause of death, and no 

19- 



278 THE FEAR OF DEATH 

derogatory reflections ought to arise on that account, 
as no one is to blame, death being a necessity and 
not a punishment. We are sure the composition of 
the body could not have been arranged in such wise 
as to preclude death. 

The heart, in course of years, will lose its irrita- 
bility; the glands of the stomach will shrink and 
lose their efficiency; all the tissues will become 
inflexible and stiff : the eye, by reason of changes in 
the shape of its lense, will become dim ; the cells of 
the brain will dwindle and finally disappear, and that 
organ will lose the power of thought or reacting at 
all. In fact, the whole body will become a worn- 
out machine, and death is desirable to remove it. 
And we find that the aged pass out of life as natu- 
rally and as easily as they came into it. Whatever 
hope religion affords is that much positive con- 
solation. 



THE END 



APR 29 1907 



